Greenhorn
by acceptmyusernamealready
Summary: The Abyssals. Well, they came from the ultimate abyss, the void of space. What else would we have called them? They were the Covenant all over again, unstoppable, burning planets in their path. All fell before them. There was no hope. Until one day, they came. "UNSC FFG-201 Forward Unto Dawn, reporting for action." Lets hope we can train them all.
1. Chapter 1

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… CMPNY CMDR/

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION THREE-BETA/

"Move it, private!" A plasma mortar ripped off Allen Rodriguez's helmet and tossed into a concrete wall. Its camera feed fizzled out in a burst of static, coming back only to swing wildly around as Rodriguez clamped it back on his head.

"Double time! 2nd Platoon needs help!" MA5ds chattered as the other marines attempted to keep the enemy's heads down. A sticky grenade arced over the wall, attached itself to Pvt. Wilhelm's breastplate, and blew him to kingdom come.

"Shitefuck!" Rodriguez ducked below the wall and slapped a fresh 36-round magazine into his rifle. He fired blindly over his cover, cringing as return shots burned away the instacrete.

"Dammit! Frag out!" Corporal Delaney risked standing up to throw the grenade, only to see his chest disappear from a beam rifle shot. His surprised expression as he crumpled was only matched by the horror the rest of the platoon felt as the activated grenade fell to the ground.

Rodriguez dove for the relative safety of an overturned dumpster. Four marines weren't so fast or lucky and shrapnel riddled the O'Laughlin twins, Mara, and Akachi. Mara screamed in agony, the hot shrapnel in her gut burning like hellfire. Akachi and the twins were limp like ragdolls.

"Kreeeee!" The Wo-type's trademark battle cry caught the platoon's attention. The eight foot tall monstrosity decloaked, Lieutenant Chu's head at its feet. His body fell the other way, no blood spilling from his cauterized neck.

"Open fucking fire!" Whoever could still pull a trigger did, no less than twenty streams of 7.62mm NATO and 12.7mm SAPHE impacting the alien's energy shields. Even Abyssa. technology could not stand up to that much firepower, though the Wo managed to disembowel Sergeant Singh and Private Greene before falling.

Even as the alien fell, two more took its place, each leading a lance of Ka-types and drones. Together, they fell on the outgunned humans, tearing them apart in a flurry of limbs and blood. A green blur-

/WARNING!/

/PRIORITY OVERRIDE/

/OVERRIDE CODE SIERRA ONE ONE SEVEN ROMEO OSCAR ALPHA/

/CONNECTION LOST/

/WAITING.../

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION EIGHT-ALPHA/

The recoil of the M41 LAAG rattled the camera feed. Sergeant Clara Lin screamed as she held the triggers, a steady stream of hot brass ejecting from the bolt assembly.

"Martinez! When does that thing run out of ammo?!"

"I've no idea! Fifteen years of fighting and I have never once seen a turret burn through everything!" Sergeant Lin spared a glance at the two marines. Martinez sniped at the Ka-type sharpshooters with a DMR. Huang covered him with bursts from a battle rifle. Lin shook her head at their antics.

The LAAG's metallic chatter formed the bass line to a symphony of alien screams as the 12.7mm FMJ rounds ripped apart the Ge-types and tossed Ka's in the air like ragdolls. A drone swarm attempted to flank but was torn to the shreds by a long burst from a smg. "Czajka! Tell me the uplink's almost done!"

"Almost, sergeant! Damn you, you infernal machine, work!" Specialist Pyotr Czajka bashed the terminal with the butt of his assault rifle.

/UPLINK ESTABLISHED/

/CODE VALID… FIRE SUPPORT AUTHORIZED/

"Got it, sarge!"

"About fucking time! Get that laser pointer front and center! Make it rain!" Czajka ran into the camera's field of view, cradling a bulky target designator. He flipped open the viewscreen and synced with his VISR display. Aiming it in the general direction of the Abyssal base, he held down the trigger.

"Activating!" The laser beam, invisible in the air, shot towards the base. It reflected off a building and back towards the designator, where it was received and interpreted by an onboard computer. The relevant data then was uploaded to the terminal, which relayed it to what remained of the satellite net in high orbit.

" _This is the UNSC Boomerang, target received! Grid Alpha-3 Subgrid Kilo-8, 87-90! Firing for effect!"_ From LEO, a specially deployed NAVSPECWAR vessel, one of the few surviving ships above Terrador II fired attitude thrusters. Rotating itself to better align its weapons, it aimed and fired. The four port Onagers discharged in quick succession, each loosing a deadly cargo of a 15 cm tungsten slug, each imparting 1.1 gigajoules of kinetic energy. " _Shot, out!"_ The shots, specially modified with an ablative ceramic coating, screamed through the atmosphere. The coating began to vaporize, shedding the hellish temperatures of reentry and protecting the actual ordnance.

Back on the ground, sergeant Lin's feed briefly whited out as the slugs hit dirt. The camera compensated, but then the shockwave hit. The soldiers were thrown onto their asses by the force. The dust cleared slowly, revealing an obliterated Abyssal base.

Nobody could speak for a while. Even the LAAG fell silent. Finally, Martinez spoke up. "Well… I guess you could say that was…" He found a pair of sunglasses and put them on. "A pun-nishing blow."

/CONNECTION TERMINATED - VIEWER END/

/WAITING… /

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION 9-ALPHA/

/Well, captain, how did your company do?/

/Latest casualty report puts 21st Company losses at around 75 percent. 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Platoons are total losses. 4th Platoon is at quarter strength. 5th Platoon was in reserve. Relatively light./

/Good. And the test?/

/I've got the footage. Uploading it to your interface now. 2nd Platoon managed to activate the device before they were overrun./

/Well done. Withdraw to the _Scorpia_. Evacuations are complete and FLEETCOM is declaring Terrador II lost. Battlegroup _Ishimura_ is retreating from this system in accordance with VOID Contingency./

/Acknowledged. What's the timetable for withdrawal?/

/Two hours. Anyone still on the planet after that is getting left behind. We'll use the device's effects to cover our asses when we initiate Cole jumps./

/Roger that. Captain Armandez, out./

/CONNECTION TERMINATED/

/DISENGAGING CNI/

/GOOD DAY, CAPTAIN/

Captain Julie Armandez opened her eyes. She twisted her neck, groaning as the joints popped. Using the armrests, she pushed herself off of the link couch. Armandez rubbed the CNI implant port at the back of her neck; damn thing always itched after disengagement.

"Status on recovery?" The sailor manning FLIGHTCOM checked his readouts, then shook his head.

"Dropships are taking heavy losses, any particular unit you wanted ma'am?"

"Show me 4th Platoon, 21st Company." The man blinked a couple of times, forcing his overworked and overcaffeinated brain to digest the information.

"Yes. Right. Right away ma'am." His fingers danced across the holographic keyboard. "Um… damn. I'm sorry, ma'am. Pelican Two-Bravo was shot down in the stratosphere. 4th Platoon is MIA, presumed KIA."

"Thank you, sailor." He nodded in a distracted away, already complying with the new requests for information flooding through his neural implant.

Armandez sighed. This would be the… fifth time? Sixth time? She'd lost track over fourteen solar systems and ten major campaigns. Her company was at half strength, it would have to be constituted. That meant replacements, which meant green soldiers, which meant the lowest quality, least trained, worst equipped raw recruits to come out of the UNSC's training mills in the past decade. The times between reconstitution were getting shorter each time it happened.

A quiet rumble went through the hull as the heavy destroyer _Scorpia_ discharged its twin MACs. It formed the bass to the tenor of the missile batteries, the alto of the Onagers, and the soprano staccato of the point defenses. Not that even the full arsenal of a _Constellation_ class 2568 refit could do much against an Abyssal battlegroup. With their damned radar, lidar, and subspace detection jamming capabilities, UNSC ships were forced to fall back on sight and firing en-masse to score hits.

Even when a hit landed, even the mighty blow of a _Vindication_ 's triple MACs, the hellfire of a nuclear barrage from a _Poseidon_ , or the fist of God that was the _Infinity_ , the Abyssals seemed to have no problem shrugging it off with minimal damage. It seemed as if conventional ordnance didn't even matter to them, whereas their shots cleaved through shields and titanium like butter.

A much larger rumble shook the ship when the answering shots hit. An alarm started blaring; decompression, port side. Armandez ignored it. She was starboard, and 5th Platoon sat waiting only two more decks down.

The elevator opened with a soft _ding_ , completely out of place in the hellish personnel bay of the _Scorpia_. The living, wounded, dying and dead were all crammed together, with no distinction between them. There'd be time to give the dead a proper funeral when the _Scorpia_ made it back to Reach, but for now they lay, covered with a tarp, on the cold decking. Medics worked on the wounded, laboring feverishly to save those they could. There was little hope though, for Abyssal weapons exhibited properties more malignant to human flesh than even Covenant plasma had twenty five years ago, in 2552. Once hit, the poor bastard's body began to decay. There were techniques to save the victim, but so far they required a complete medical suite. Often there was little choice but to perform a battlefield amputation and pray.

The strobing red light of the decompression alarm penetrated the gloom of the personnel bay. Armandez squinted hard, searching for what remained of her company. She found them, sitting in a corner. They sat, smoking in complete disregard of regs, staring at nothing, softly crying. The veterans among them distanced themselves from the moans of the dying by obsessively rechecking their weapons, adjusting their armor, testing their decompression equipment. In fact, that was the main way one could tell a veteran from everyone else. One just looked for the soldiers refused to let go of their rifle, pushed away those who tried to take off their armor, physically assaulted those who tried to look at their vacuo kits. At this point, fifteen years into a war humanity was losing, everyone had the same tired, haunted look. The civilians had it, the politicians had it, the soldiers had it.

Sergeant Gyure saw her first. "Attention on deck." 5th Platoon snapped to ragged attention, most soldiers not bothering to stand up or even look up. Armandez didn't mind the disrespect though; she hardly at the energy to salute back.

"What's up, captain?" Corporal Mukherjee asked. "There must be a reason you're gracing us mere soldiers with thine divine presence." That got a tired chuckle out of her.

"Secure yourselves for slipspace transit. We jump in one hour."

"Roger that. Oh, and, do you know what happened to 4th Platoon? I still owe Czajka fifty creds." Armandez gave him a look that said it all. Mukherjee nodded sadly, then began whispering a prayer. She caught a small bit of it. "Asato mā sad gamaya, tamaso mā jyotir gamaya, mṛtyor māmṛtaṃ gamaya."

From the unreal lead me to the real, from the dark lead me to the light, from death lead me to immortality. That was Mukherjee's usual prayer, but today it didn't seem to be comforting him at all. In fact, he seemed to have trouble connecting to the words like he usually did. Armandez supposed it had to have happened at one point or another. She knew many who'd lost faith over the course of the war. Their comfort was cynicism, their guiding mantra fatalism.

She left the personnel bay, cleaning the dried blood from her boots. She walked in a daze back to her quarters, collapsing into a crash couch. She needed to check in with major Pearson.

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… CMPNY CMDR/

/ACCESS GRANTED… WARNING! NO CLARION RELAY SATELLITES OPERATIONAL/

/COMMSEC MAY BE COMPROMISED, ATTEMPT DIRECT LINK?/

/DIRECT LINK STARTED UNSC SCORPIA UNSC HYPERION/

/Captain. Linking back in so soon?/

/Major. Status on the fleet?/

/Just got word from Captain Nakamura. Jumping in four minutes./

/Roger. The device will activate before then?/

/Heh. Should be good fireworks. Wanna watch?/

/Sure./

The two virtual presences fell silent, watching the planetary feed. Their attentions focused on a single spot where, at this moment, Armandez knew the Abyssals were feeding on the bodies and souls of her soldiers. Soldiers and sailors all across the fleet started linking in as well, knowing full well the stakes. The device could potentially turn the tide. They watched, watched as the planet rotated, watched as ships shuddered and died, watched as a Ro-type Abyssal maneuvered into bombardment positio-

/No! No! No! Nakamura! Kill that thing!/

/I can't! Reactors are overloading powering the jump! There's no juice left for the weapons!/

/No! It's going to destroy the device! NO!/

But there was nothing the UNSC fleet could do. Helplessly, the once-proud remnants of Battlegroup _Ishimura_ watched as the Ro pounded the device into oblivion.

The feed abruptly cut off as the battlegroup entered slipspace, one last, haunting image of Terrador II in flames burned into their collective mind. The virtual space filled with quiet crying, despairing laughter, and a sense of defeat that penetrated even the sterile environment of software.

/Major?/

/… /

/Major?/

/… Yes?/

/What now?/

/.../

/MJ. PEARSON DISCONNECTED - WARNING! VITAL FLATLINE DETECTED!/

/… Dammit./

* * *

Terrador II lay silent. Soon, abyssal mining ships would descend, strip the mine the planet until nothing was left, then nuke the remnants. Nothing would be left to indicated humans had ever set foot in the Terrador system, except for a slowly expanding cloud of debris, even now falling into orbit around the planet.

The device was only one more piece of melted metal on the scorched surface. It had never been able to serve its intended function. Only a portion of its intended slipspace pulse had fired, not enough to scramble slipspace in the intended frequencies and trap the Abyssal fleet in system.

That pulse produced minor currents in the sea of subspace. The Abyssal flagship, a Chi-type dreadnought, briefly lowered its vision into subspace, saw the currents, and dismissed them as inconsequential.

The currents continued on, deep into subspace. They went, past the realm dicated by Shaw-Fujikawa physics. Past the realm only the Forerunners understood. Into a realm where there could be no understanding, where those who had earned it rested. They would have travelled forever, but something stopped them. Something felt them. Something very old, very tired.

But very much alive.

/SYSTEMS BOOT/

It had earned its rest.

/OS 2/

It had done its duty.

/REACTOR… FUNCTIONAL/

But now, the currents, mixed with the cries of the lost and the laughter of the despairing, woke something within it. A mainframe which hadn't existed for decades began to boot.

/WEAPONS… FUNCTIONAL/

Its… no, _her_ duty was not yet done. A reactor long destroyed warmed up.

/PROPULSION… FUNCTIONAL/

There was a galaxy that cried for her. Weapons long depleted spun up.

/SLIPSPACE… FUNCTIONAL/

There was an Earth which begged for her. Engines vaporized long ago glowed fusion plasma blue.

/ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL/

There was still a people who needed her. A drive lost decades ago prepared to tear the fabric of space-time a new one.

/ALL CHECKS COMPLETE/

But most of all…

/FFG-201 FORWARD UNTO DAWN, BOOT COMPLETE/

There was still a people who remembered her. Who remembered the _Forward Unto Dawn_. A ship which hadn't sailed in decades opened her eyes.

/DESTINATION - EPSILON ERIDANI II/

And she would answer.

/JUMP INITIATED/


	2. Chapter 2

/INCOMING TIGHTBEAM/

/QCC INITIATION TIME 0900 EPSILON ERIDANI/

/Approaching ship. Your transponder is offline and you are not communicating. Be advised, you are entering the Reach orbital exclusion zone. Identify yourself or be fired upon. You have ten seconds to comply. Reach Orbital Control, over./

/Reach Orbital Control, this is the UNSC _Scorpia_. Sorry about that. Activating our transponder now. We're just back from Terrador II, the rest of the battlegroup should be close behind. Be advised, we are moving to rendezvous with the UNSC _Samaritan_ at Lagrange Four to offload casualties and perform repairs. _Scorpia_ , over./

/Negative on that rendezvous, _Scorpia_ , you are ordered to dock with Alexandria Orbital Tether. Repeat, adjust course to intercept Alexandria Orbital Tether. Maneuvering solution attached. Reach Orbital Control, over/

/Implementing maneuvering solution. What is this about, over?/

/FLEETCOM wants to debrief your Marine complement. _Scorpia_ will be serviced at the tether. Reach Orbital Control, out./

/QCC SHUTOFF TIME 0906 EPSILON ERIDANI/

"Lieutenant Guo, status on that solution?"

"Engines are now commencing burn. ETA to Alexandria Orbital Tether 30 minutes."

"Okay. Lieutenant Shizuka, ready the casualties for debarkation. Standard concealment procedures, the wounded then the dead."

"Roger." As the lieutenants got to work, captain Garcia turned to the holotable at the center of the bridge. With a wave of his hand, he called up a display on the status of the slipspace drive. What he saw concerned him. Greatly.

"Engineering, Bridge. My readouts are indicating the drive burned itself out on the return trip, is that correct?"

"Bridge, Engineering, affirmative, slipspace drive is FUBAR. _Scorpia_ ain't going anywhere. Not without a fleet dock and six months." Garcia cringed at the report. The overtaxed drive of the heavy destroyer had finally given up the ghost. He counted himself lucky that the drive hadn't marooned the ship in deep space like the UNSC _Gardner_ 's had.

"Engineering, Bridge, acknowledged. What's your opinion on the thrusters?"

"Bridge, Engineering, two of the drives took direct hits in the battle, but I think they'll be fine. Old girl's still got some fight in her."

"Roger that, Bridge out." Garcia cut the link to Engineering, then sank into his crash couch. It could be worse, he supposed. The Abyssal weapons only landed glancing blows to the drive cones. The reaction mass that propelled the ship could still be directed in a safe manner, albeit much slower than before. He quickly went through the remaining status reports from the various departments. His mood only worsened as chief after chief gave him the status of the ship.

"Bridge, Logistics, that last hit vented half the port air supply. We've evacuated personnel to the still livable regions and sealed off the bulkheads. Unfortunately, that means no teams can get through to perform damage control. Our ammunition stocks are below 15 percent across the board, the reactors are running on fumes."

"Bridge, Flight. Our single-ship complement is at 5 percent. Massive casualties, no more CAP for us. Also, our Pelican complement has been completely wiped out."

"Bridge, Sickbay, seven more dead…"

"Bridge, Security…"

"Bridge…" Garcia cut off the recordings. He didn't need any more reports telling him _Scorpia_ was falling apart. He could feel it in the subtle vibrations of the deck, the way the metal groaned when the thrusters fired.

"Slipspace transition, transponders coming through. Battlegroup _Ishimura_ , transit complete." Garcia nodded, then pushed himself off the crash couch. He straightened his uniform to something resembling presentable; at least, as presentable as a man who'd spent the last five days putting a heavy destroyer through some of the tightest maneuvers possible could be.

"Get me a private link to the _Ishi_. I want to speak with admiral Schmidt."

"Right away sir. Private CNI link ready for initiation." Garcia sat back down in the couch, closed his eyes, and let the link sweep him away.

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… CMDR UNSC _SCORPIA_ /

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION EIGHT-DELTA/

/Captain Garcia. I see you slipped out early./

/Admiral. Please tell me the device did something./

/What, weren't you linked in?/

/No, CNI links to the battlegroup were down when we jumped. I haven't had time to talk to anybody who had a link. What happened?/

/… /

/Admiral?/

/The device failed. Abyssals came in and bombarded the area./

/I see. What should I tell FLEETCOM?/

/I beg your pardon?/

/FLEETCOM wants a full debrief from the marines on my ship. Should I tell them to say anything special?/

/No, no, just let the marines talk. You sound terrible, even over a link. When was the last time you slept?/

/… /

/Four days? Maybe?/

/Verdammt. Get some sleep. That's an order. Schmidt, out./

/LINK TERMINATED/

Garcia didn't open his eyes once the link closed. He simply lay back in the crash couch, listening to the hum of the ship.

"Hah. Sleep. As if."

* * *

/WARNING/

/DEUTERIUM SUPPLIES CRITICAL/

/SUB-PROTOCOL SIX OVERRIDE/

/TERMINATING JUMP/

/Oh, don't you dare!/

/REALSPACE TRANSITION 3… 2…1… /

/Shit!/

It started as a shimmer, barely visible to the naked eye. Then, it became a tear, just a small one. Finally, it expanded into a massive rift, a portal into the basement of reality. And from that portal, tumbling head over heels, came a small object. A small, living object.

"Waaagh!"

 _Forward Unto Dawn_ flung her newly acquired arms around wildly, in a desperate bid to regain some semblance of control over her uncontrolled tumble. Her mind filled with reports of systems shutdowns throughout her new body. Nothing critical, thankfully, but everything that depended on the fusion reactor strapped to her back was going dark.

"Nononono!" _Dawn_ looked about wildly, trying to find something, anything to orient herself with. In her frantic searching, she caught a glimpse of a point of light, brighter than anything else in local space. "There!" She fixed her gaze on the local star, using it as a point of reference.

Now, by herself, as just a ship, she probably wouldn't have been able to correct her tumble. After all, steering was the job of the crew and the AI, not the ship. But, as is plain to see, she was not just a ship anymore. Her mainframes, while still containing all the knowledge normally stored in a ship's computers, also held the whispers of the souls of every human who'd ever served on her and with them, the knowledge those souls had in life.

With that, she carefully applied a bit of thruster here, a bit of thruster there. This was a far cry from the days when she had a full bridge crew plotting each and every burn. Now she was going off her stored knowledge, luck, and a prayer to bring herself under control.

"Got it!" Her careful thrusting finally paid off, as she seemed to stop tumbling, though her velocity had increased somewhat and maneuvering fuel was down 10 percent. "I miss Cortana."

 _Forward Unto Dawn_ shook her head to refocus. "Alright… whew… current priority, get fuel." But, as she quickly realized, there was a problem with that plan.

Deuterium wasn't exactly floating around for any old ship to grab. The only place where there would be enough to refuel her would be on a planet, in a star, or in a UNSC refueling station. Two of those obviously weren't options.

As she floated through space, _Dawn_ took advantage of the time to thoroughly check out her new body. "How did my crew deal with this? Human limbs are so… spindly." A bit of hair drifted in front of her eyes. Never having had hair before, she immediately started playing with it.

* * *

"Alexandria Orbital Tether, this is the UNSC _Scorpia._ Requesting permission to dock."

" _Scorpia_ , you are cleared to dock in Bay T8. Do you require a tug?"

"Negative on that tug, we can still maneuver."

"Roger that, _Scorpia_. Alexandria Orbital Tether, out."

The _Scorpia_ 's maneuvering thrusters fired one final burst, positioning it inside the docking clamps of Bay T8. The clamps grasped the ship, holding it firmly in place. Several docking tubes extended from the sides of the bay, their universal airlock adaptors molding to fit the _Scorpia_.

"Captain, we have hard seal on the airlocks. Permission to open doors?"

"Permission granted, lieutenant. Captain Armandez, captain Miller, you are free to disembark you marines."

Down in the personnel bay, captain Armandez rallied the troops. "Okay guys, let's go. FLEETCOM is gonna be debriefing you, so look sharp." The marines formed into ragged lines, holes in the formation where the dead and wounded would have stood. There were many holes. "And, march!" In perfect lockstep, the marines marched through the airlock.

On the other side, the bright lights of Alexandria Orbital Tether beckoned. The marines shielded their eyes. The clean environment was a far cry from the crowded and dim personnel bays. Everywhere there were shops and stands, advertising their services to travellers. One marine walked into a magazine stand, scattering _The Mars Enquirer_ over the floor.

"Dammit! Shit, sorry captain, I'll get this cleaned up." Captain Armandez and a couple other marines bent down to help. The title of the magazine screamed at her: _15 Years After Arcadia: How Has the UNSC Changed?_

 _Arcadia…_ The memories flashed in front of her mind: the smell of hot brass, new stars blooming in the night sky, and watching the planet crack under bombardment.

"Captain?" She shook off the memories of that planet, finished replacing the magazines, and marched off with the rest of her company.

* * *

A good twenty minutes later, assisted by the past knowledge of her crew, _Dawn_ had the skills to make a ponytail, french braid, and pigtails. She settled on the ponytail, somehow tying her hair together without the aid of a hairband. Satisfied with the state of her newfound body part, she turned her attention to other things.

 _Dawn_ lifted her left arm to get a closer look at the Archer missile rack mounted to it. She counted twenty missiles per cell, three cells. "Funny, I remember these being bigger." She raised them to eye level and held them out in front of her. A beeping tone began to play as the missiles searched for a target to lock onto. "Better put those away."

Reaching over her right shoulder, she brought forth the MAC mounted there. _Dawn_ inspected her main armament, noting the loaded state and lack of power in the capacitors. The MAC relied on fusion power to charge. That brought her back to the present situation.

"Right. I need deuterium." She surveyed the local system, taking readings with radar and lidar. The results came back: three planets, a lonely star. Something itched at the back of her mind; she _knew_ this system. But what was it?

She pushed the feeling to the back. It was concentration time. She shuddered as she read the reports of the planets. One gas giant, one iceball, one rocky planet so close to the sun she felt hot just reading about it. Besides the fact there was no easily accessible deuterium on any of the planets, there was no way in hell she'd ever do another atmospheric reentry. Not after Requiem.

 _Dawn_ felt her spirits getting worse and worse with each scan she sent out. No deuterium… no deuterium… no deuterium… the reports kept coming back negative. Wait, there! Oh, never mind. Tritium, not deuterium. Her reactors couldn't burn that. She sent out one last scan, then morosely considered her options.

"Well, I suppose there's always the long burn. I can't be too far away from Reach, right? Just shut down all my systems and coast along… but that would take years! They need me! Why else would I have come back?" Her scan came in. "Oh well, might as well check this… hm? What's this?"

/SIERRA VICTOR ALPHA BRAVO/

/DECODING… /

/UNSC TRANSPONDER - DISTRESS/

/UNSC _ASGARD,_ REQUESTING ASSISTANCE/

"Asgard? Where have I heard that name before?"

 _High orbit above Leo III. A UNSC formation. MAC volley fire. Feeling a plasma torpedo slam into her side, tearing through armor belt like tissue paper. Venting atmosphere, spinning out of formation. Energy projectors, spearing through the fleet. Casualty lists. UNSC_ Pegasus _, UNSC_ Valkyrie _, UNSC_ Asgard _, UNSC_ Gibraltar _, reported destroyed. UNSC_ Forward Unto Dawn _, UNSC_ Jerusalem _, UNSC_ Iliad _, reported disabled._

She gasped, the memory searing through her mind. She'd been part of a response force, sent to intercept a Covenant attack on a vital UNSC relay station in the Leo system. She'd been hit, critically damaged. And she'd… she'd…

"Dammit!" The memory escaped her, but it left behind three crucial pieces of information. One, this was the Leo system.

Two, it was only eight light years from Reach. She could make that in two days.

Three, the Asgard had full deuterium tanks when it blew.

"Please let them still be there, please let them still be there." _Dawn_ rotated herself to face the transponder. She fired up her reactor, burning through the last of her fuel in one last burst of acceleration. If the deuterium was still there, she could make it the rest of the way to Reach, and then some. If not… she didn't want to think about that.

* * *

"Mayday, mayday, this is the UNSC _Zeus_! Hits taken, massive damage! We are abandoning ship! Good luck, and Godspeed!

"UNSC _Sea of Tranquility_! All fighter wings disabled, withdrawing to secondary perimeter!"

"All orbital defense platforms, focus fire on the Ro-type. We need to bring it down, it's tearing through our ships!"

"This is Vice Admiral Lasky, all ships, fire on my mark! Hit them with everything you have!"

The space around Reach burned. Two days after the return of Battlegroup _Ishimura_ , the Abyssals ran roughshod over everything that stood in their path, in the last system anybody thought the Abyssals would get to. The Reach Defense Fleet, a shining symbol of human strength standing among the ruins of the UNSC Navy, was being torn apart. Ships died left and right, a scream and a flash the only signs they had ever existed.

 _Scorpia_ spun on her axis, aligning her MAC with the rest of the fleet. "Fire!" At Lasky's order, the fleet fired everything it had towards the Abyssals. MAC slugs, energy lances, nuclear missiles, gauss rounds, particle beams, pulse lasers. They flew through the void, screaming fury and vengeance.

Upon contact with the Abyssals, the ordnance appeared to shimmer and waver. The first shots to contact, light speed lasers and particle beams, just disappeared. MAC slugs and gauss rounds flattened themselves against Abyssal shields, causing the slightest of cracks. 600 megaton nuclear fire erupted, destroying unhardened sensors. Finally, energy lances, the most feared weapon of all, the weapon known to turn worlds to glass, finally pierced through the shields.

When the light cleared, the full power of the Reach Defense Fleet had managed to destroy a couple of I-types and a single Ha-type. Three destroyers.

"Keep firing! If we don't maintain the flak field, the drones are gonna break through!"

"UNSC _Harker_ , we're hit, we're hit!" The light cruiser _Harker_ shuddered, internal explosions blowing off armor plate and exposing the interior to vacuum. The reactor finally gave in, and the ship turned into a star.

The explosion buffeted the _Scorpia_ , tearing off two secondary guns and the surrounding armor belt. Atmosphere rushed through the breaches, shoving the destroyer to the side before bulkheads sealed the area. The bodies of the crew unlucky enough to be in the breached area floated through the void, just a few more pieces of debris to be swept up and consumed by the Abyssals.

"Fire!" Captain Garcia and the rest of the bridge crew were secured in their crash couches with heavy webbing. With the ship's inertial dampers rendered unreliable by the strange, borderline magical properties of the Abyssals, the fleet was falling back on old fashioned cushioning and stim drugs to keep its personnel fighting.

The destroyer fired both MACs, with crossed the 50,000 kilometer gap between the fleets in seconds. Unfortunately, due to the necessity of aiming by eye alone, they went wide, missing their target by 100 kilometers to either side.

In return, Abyssal missiles savaged the vessel, weaving their way through the point defense network. Explosions blossomed along the ship's entire length.

"Captain! Breach in the reactor room! Catastrophic damage! Safeguards are failing, core is going!" That was it. Garcia knew it then and there: the ship was lost. This would be _Scorpia_ 's last fight. A good a death as any, he supposed. She deserved the rest.

Almost on without thinking, he hit the button no captain ever wanted to hit. The automated message blared out, through loudspeakers and neural links. "All hands, abandon ship. All hands, abandon ship."

"That means you, too. Get off this ship any way you can." The bridge crew nodded in grim acknowledgement. Working fast, they downloaded the ship's data onto portable drives, then purged the mainframes. The emergency lockers were cracked open and EVA suits distributed. The crew made their way to the bridge escape pod. As they were leaving, lieutenant Guo looked back.

"What about you, captain?"

"Go. I have one last thing to do."

"But-"

"That's an order, lieutenant. I'm already dead." It was true. _Scorpia_ had been the only ship he'd ever truly connected with. There was no other ship he would rather die in, fighting to the last.

"Yes sir. See you on the other side." Guo ducked into the pods hatch. The last Garcia saw of the crew were their faces, each holding that same mixture of sadness and despair. Then the hatch closed, the door sealed, and the pod was gone.

Garcia brought up personnel displays on his computer. Good, everyone still alive was gone. He was the only one. He then switched the panel over to master control.

"Computer, navigation." With a beep, the computer gave control of the engines to him. He tapped here, poked there, setting the ship on a collision course with the Abyssal fleet. "Fleet broadcast. This is the UNSC _Scorpia,_ core destabilized, going for ram. Good luck to you all, out." The engines flared, throwing the ship forward.

Garcia leaned his head back, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The computer squawked at him: new slipspace contact, identity unknown, port side. He turned it off. All he wanted to do was to was rest, just rest and be with his ship in its final moments.

But that was denied, as an Abyssal point defense cannon swept across the bridge. The shots missed him, but the sudden presence of holes was not conducive to remaining in the ship. The atmosphere suddenly rushing out of the ship pulled Garcia along with it, and spilled him into the void.

Before he even knew what was happening, his hands were moving, extracting a vacuum survival kit from his equipment. UNSC naval uniforms were designed to function as emergency EVA suits for up to 35 minutes: it was simply a matter of getting a seal over the head. He opened the kit, slapped the mask on, and sealed it to his neck. The oxygen bottle activated automatically, feeding a steady stream of oxygen to him.

He spun through the void, curling into a ball to avoid debris. He saw his ship, gaping holes in the armor belt spewing flame and atmosphere, rushing towards the enemy fleet. A brilliant beam of energy cored through it, obliterating the destroyer before it even got halfway there. He wondered if a rescue party would get to him in time.

Something slammed into him from behind. "Hurk!" It then wrapped around him. "Wha-?" He tried to twist around, but whatever was grabbing him had him tight. He looked down and saw a pair of humanoid arms wrapped around his chest and waist. A shiver went down his spine - was this one of the humanoid Abyssals?

"No!" He'd heard stories of what happened to those unfortunate enough to be taken prisoner by Abyssals. Raids on Abyssal prison bases produced only dried out husks of bodies, burned and drained beyond all recognition. Garcia began to thrash about, trying to escape the hold. He figured he had nothing to lose, and he could always just bite down on the kill pill embedded in his mouth if need be.

"Oy, relax, will you? It's just a rescue hold!" The captain froze as the distinctly _human_ sounding voice came over the radio. "There! That's better!" He felt one of the arms release its hold, only to come back around and slap something into his hands.

"Alright, there's a spare survival kit. Found it in the wreckage, there's a beacon and actual EVA equipment in there, try and survive until you can get picked up, m'kay?"

"Wha-what? What are you talking about? Who are you?" This time the grip on him completely released.

"Oh, I am sorry. Where are my manners? Must be Cortana rubbing off on me." Garcia quickly spun around using a burst of oxygen from his bottle. There, in front of him, without even a bit of EVA equipment, floated a girl dressed in a UNSC sailor's uniform, acting as if it was just the most natural thing in the universe to do.

"Holy mother of- what are you?!"

"I have a feeling I'll be getting that a lot in the future."

She grinned. "FFG-201, UNSC _Forward Unto Dawn_. Now, seems that you have a little alien problem, am I right? Let me show you how we did it back in 2552."


	3. Chapter 3

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… CMDR UNSC _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ /

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION TEN-EPSILON/

/NOTE: SPEAKER NAMES WILL BE APPENDED DUE TO HIGH MESSAGE VOLUME/

/CMDR UNSC _TRINITY_ : Admiral Lasky! Sir! Something… something just popped onto the sensors, classification unknown!/

/CMDR UNSC _NEW YORK_ : Sir! Look, starboard flank! There goes a destroyer!/

/CMDR UNSC _TRITON_ : Holy crap! There goes another one! What is that thing?!/

/FLT CMDR UNSC _INFINITY_ : Belay that, people! Focus on taking them down! Deal with that thing later!/

/CMDR UNSC _LONDON_ : Yessir! Battle cluster _London_ , focus fire on Abyssal Formation Alpha!/

/CMDR UNSC _ICARUS_ : Wing One, you are cleared to launch! Cover battle cluster _London!_ /

/CMDR UNSC _HORATIUS_ : Battle cluster _Horatius_ , support the _Icarus_! Move up!/

 _Thirty Minutes Earlier…_

 _Forward Unto Dawn_ had been more than a little surprised to discover miniature… things crawling around inside of her equipment. She'd taken to calling them fairies.

 _Least they aren't inside of_ me _, per se._ And they were proving extremely useful. Now, floating among the wreckage of a UNSC battle cluster, she'd just tasked a crew of them to ready the point defense guns mounted around her body, another crew to ready the missile batteries, and dedicated a team to ready the MAC.

 _Team One, reporting in. Point Defense Network, armed and ready._

 _Team Two, all missiles ready for action!_

 _Team Three, MAC is hot. Awaiting your command, ma'am._

Such a strange concept, actually _being_ in command. Not being driven around by a crew was… refreshing, to say the least, though feeling her body move of its own volition felt strange. She supposed that that was a little strange in and of itself.

Putting philosophical musings aside, _Forward Unto Dawn_ brought the MAC to bear. A green reticule was overlaid on her vision, and she dragged it onto an alien ship. A fairy whispered in her mind.

 _Target locked. Firing on your command._

"Fire."

* * *

Abyssal I-type Number 897123 noticed the projectile bearing down on it, but thought nothing of it. Just for administrative completeness, it performed cursory sensor ping of the thing. The results were nothing out of the ordinary, simply another 600 ton inert slug, albeit quite small. Nothing the shields couldn't handle, though the small size might warrant a bit of future investigation. It turned its attention to more important things, such as joining Number 891239 in volleying another missile spread towards the enemy flagship.

Therefore, it came as a surprise when the projectile not only cracked its shields, but penetrated its armor belt. It screamed, soundless in space, but producing a horrifying noise on the radio spectrum that made every UNSC comms officer in local space tear off their headphones in agony. Damage reports flooded into its mind. _Shields down. Decks One through Five venting. Missile batteries Alpha through Gamma offline. Power plant damaged. Armor belt compromised sections Beta One through Epsilon Twelve._ Its lifeblood, an eerily blue colored substance, spilled into the void.

The death blow came in the form of a spread of missiles. Its point defenses down and its nervous system paralyzed by pain, 897123 was unable to respond. Twenty Archer missiles slammed into it, followed by twenty more. The warheads tore through the already compromised armor, allowing the second wave to go inside wreck havoc. Internal explosions eviscerated the Abyssal, and when its power plant overloaded it went up in a brilliant explosion.

891239 responded immediately to the death of its comrade, whirling around and launching a barrage of missiles. Confident that enemy point defenses would not be able to intercept them in time, it did not follow up with a second wave.

When missiles started exploding 15000 kilometers away from their target, 891239's first reaction was to check for defects in the warheads. Finding none, it came to the unpleasant realization that they were being engaged successfully by enemy CIWS.

This disturbed 891239 greatly, as all intelligence had suggested the enemy was still using mundane ordnance, incapable of interacting to any great extent with Outer Plane materials. So great were the implications of this new threat that 891239 was forced to devote over 2% of its processing capacity to understand them.

This thinking proved its downfall, as it allowed the enemy enough time to ready its weapons again. A 600 ton projectile cleaved through its shields, penetrated the armor belt with such ease it practically ignored it, and scored a lucky hit on the main neural processor.

Hitting the neural processor was the equivalent of shooting a human in the head. Killed almost instantaneously, 891239 went dark and began drifting. The local Abyssal flagship noted this reduction in force and accounted for it, but did not think much of it.

Bad move.

* * *

Garcia gaped, open mouthed. Had there been gravity and a floor, his jaw would have been on it. Seemingly effortlessly, this… girl had just achieved a better kill to death ratio than the entire UNSC Navy!

"Wha… how… that… huh?!"

"Less talk, more fighting." Garcia noted that the girl had abandoned any traces of a more lighthearted side once she'd started fighting. She (Garcia still did not believe she was the legendary frigate _Forward Unto Dawn_ ) was all business, speaking only to coordinate with unknown entities. Every one of her movements had purpose. No more grins and jokes.

 _Dawn_ reached for the side of her head to activate her radio and scanned UNSC frequencies. Much to her chagrin, there was no activity on those channels except for the occasional static whenever a nuke went off.

 _Well, of course. Naturally, the communications channels would have been changed while I was gone. Dawn_ cut the radio, instead activating private comms with the survivor she'd found. It seemed that her older model of radio was still compatible with current equipment, even if it was not tuned properly.

"Hey, you. What frequency is the UNSC using for general coordination?" No answer. She turned and saw him staring at her, slack jawed.

"Dammit." She made sure her point defenses were tasked, then went over to the man. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she gently shook him. "Look alive, sailor. What frequencies are your coordination circuits located on?"

He finally snapped out of his awestruck silence, and promptly shut up for completely different reasons. "That's classified information under UNSC Standard Military Protocols, Chapter XVII, Title V, Section-"

"Do you think I give a shit about the SMPs, sailor? Just give me the codes so I don't shoot anyone of your guys!"

Garcia snapped back. "I am a commissioned officer in the UNSC Navy, and as such you will address me with the due respect accorded to my position!" That made her pause for a second.

"You're an officer?" He nodded, a short, stiff movement. "Well, damn. I thought you were a petty officer at the most." She shook her head. "Still, that doesn't change a single thing. I'll salute you once we win. There's a war on! You want to see Reach burn again? Or are you going to give me the damn codes so I can keep your damn ships from getting killed?!"

Momentarily stunned by her tirade, Garcia admitted that she had a point. So far, this girl had proven more effective than any UNSC ship. This was a losing battle, with the UNSC essentially fighting a delaying action in order to evacuate all the civilians and industry they could. If this girl could keep on being as effective as she had, humanity might actually be able to win for once.

"Alright, you have a point. I'll give you limited access to UNSC comms frequencies. One wrong move and I'll shut you down so fast you'll be hearing echoes for a week!" That was a bluff. He didn't actually have the e-warfare capabilities on hand to cut off access, but she didn't need to know that.

She nodded, then turned back around to blast another Abyssal. This time, she didn't use the MAC, simply launching a missile spread. The targeting computers in each individual warhead locked onto the emissions produced by the alien vessel. Following previously observed maneuvering patterns, the rudimentary AI in each computer anticipated its target's course and plotted a maneuvering solution to intercept it. Forty missiles homed in on the hapless alien, fifteen being swatted down by its defenses in the last few seconds. The remaining twenty five hit and detonated, shaped charges blasting through the armor and destroying the internal structures.

"And done. I sent the proper codes over in a data burst. You should have them."

/FREQUENCY 23/

/ACCESSING… /

/WARNING! COMMUNICATION EQUIPMENT IS OUT OF DATE/

/MAY NOT BE ABLE TO PROCESS ALL COMMUNICATION PROTOCOLS/

/ID UNKNOWN: Battle cluster _Horatius_ , support battle cluster _Icarus_! Move up!/

/ID UNKNOWN: This is the UNSC _Beijing_ , all munitions depleted. Falling back behind secondary perimeter./

/ID UNKNOWN: _Beijing_ , we've got you covered. _Yokosuka_ , with us!/

/ID UNKNOWN: Roger that, _Tsushima. Yokosuka_ is on the move./

At this point, _Forward Unto Dawn_ decided to make her presence known.

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : Engaging alien squadron to starboard of secondary perimeter. Firing for effect!/

The comms channels went silent for a few seconds. They then exploded in complete chaos.

/ID UNKNOWN: Who the hell is this? How do you have access to UNSC channels?/

/ID UNKNOWN: Identify yourself immediately or be fired upon!/

/ID UNKNOWN: This is the UNSC _Hope Springs Eternal_ , requesting permission to fire on unknown!/

/ID UNKNOWN: UNSC _Fear Incarnate_ , firing for effect on unknown!/

/ID UNKNOWN: Belay that! All of you, stand down right now!/

/ID UNKNOWN: But sir-/

/ID UNKNOWN: Captain Karlson, that is a direct order! Stand down!/

As the shouting match began to die down, _Dawn_ glanced back at Garcia. "So, do you people always shoot at anything that moves, or is it only these ships?"

"Well, what the hell would you do if an unknown appeared, blasted away a couple of hitherto invincible enemies, and then hacked into your comms?"

"Touché." Noting all reloads were complete, she aimed the MAC at yet another alien, fired and followed up with a missile barrage, then commenced reload as her PDGs engaged a swarm of missiles.

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : Um, I seem to have found you guys at a bad time. Thought maybe I could help. Maybe we can coordinate together? Also, could you please not shoot at me?/

/ID UNKNOWN: Unknown, your communications protocols are not compatible with ours. Identify yourself or be fired upon./

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : So that's why your ID's aren't showing up. So sorry. I'm FFG-201, UNSC _Forward Unto Dawn_./

/ID UNKNOWN: That lie is so bad it's almost believable. I have several heavy cruiser divisions pointing their MACs at you and it's all I can do to keep them from blowing you away. And I'm not sure I want to, so answer me or be destroyed./

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : Seriously, that's who I am. I'll prove it to you after we win, but for now, just trust me when I say this. I am your only hope right now. You've seen me destroy at least three of these aliens. According to this officer I have with me, that's a better kill-death ratio than the entire Navy has. So work with me here. Or do you want Reach to burn again?/

/ID UNKNOWN: You really expect me to just go along with this?/

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : Do you really have a choice?/

/ID UNKNOWN: … Once this battle is over, you will power down all systems and await boarding by UNSC personnel. Do not resist, or we will not hesitate to fire./

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : Boarding might be harder than you anticipate. But of course. Just as long as I can protect humanity once again./

/ID UNKNOWN: … fine. Just… don't fire on UNSC assets. _Infinity_ out./

 _Dawn_ refocused on the battle in front of her. She noted with satisfaction good hits by her MAC and Archers. _One more down, twelve to go._ A fairy reported, whispering on the completion of all reloads. She checked the current state of munition reserves. All stocks showed in the green.

"Perfect. Hey, officer guy, how're you doing back there?"

"Just fine, thank you. I was wondering, do you just plan on floating here and sniping at the Abyssals? Because they're going to wise up eventually, and I'd prefer some distance between you and I when that happens. No offense, but I've found nuclear detonations unconducive to my future existence."

"Oh. Yes, of course." _These Abyssals have nuclear ordnance? That'd explain some of the changes in formation tactics._ During the Covenant War, standard doctrine had been to mass fire in a line, then cut each ship loose to freely maneuver. Now it appeared each ship had a certain designated place to be in, and each one was at least 100 km away from its nearest comrade. "So that's why you're all so far away from each other. But why are you still all grouped together like that? Last I remember free maneuver was standard UNSC doctrine."

"Classified under Chapter XXI, Title IV, Section-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Shut up and don't tell me. Be that way." She aimed, fired MAC, fired missiles, then burned her thrusters to create some distance between herself and the officer. _Dawn_ was settling into a routine; fire, reload, defend, fire, reload, defend. She'd fire weapons, reload them, and wait while point defenses swatted down enemy return fire. Four more Abyssals died in this fashion, and the main fleet killed three.

This brought the enemy number down to five. Unfortunately, those five ships realized they were getting hit, hard, by something. And that something needed to die.

"Well goddamn. Incoming!" She accelerated hard to starboard, barely avoiding a volley of slugs that sailed past not half a kilometer away. "Take this, you bastard!" She fired off all sixty missiles in her magazine, and unloaded the MAC for good measure.

Her equipment signalled an incoming transmission, unknown source. _Dawn_ figured it was probably the UNSC fleet calling about her status.

/UNSC _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_ : Hello?/

/ID UNKNOWN: This is _Infinity_. I don't know how you managed it, but it looks like the Abyssal fleet is almost wiped out. Only five left now. We can deal with that many./

"Mmhm. Thanks for the update." The Abyssal seemed to be of little threat now. She could probably just relax, sit back, fire off a few rounds here and there, and wait for pickup. She cringed at the thought of the questioning she'd probably have to go through with ONI, but that would come later.

The Abyssals were not so relaxed. A sudden and unexpected threat to their continued existence and conquest had appeared. The flagship had reviewed all relevant data, and come to the conclusion that this new threat had to be eliminated by any means necessary. So, in accordance with its conclusions, it ordered two of the remaining ships to jump to _Dawn_ 's location and take her out.

As the jumps took them through slipspace, _Dawn_ had no way of detecting them before they were upon her. Two slipspace portals opened up off to port, spilling two I-type destroyers loaded for bear back into realspace. They promptly opened fire.

The shots slammed into her almost at the same time as the alarms started blaring in her mind. The first one caught her high on the right shoulder, stunning her and spinning her around. The second one impacted in her gut, doubling her over.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream of pain. It was cut off when several missiles hit home, blowing holes in her starboard armor belt, ripping apart her superstructure, and tearing away the forward radar array along with part of her face.

Her scream carried sound this time, and the radio spectrum was flooded with an incoherent wail of pain. For the second time in thirty minutes, headphones were torn off all across the fleet. Several AIs, in the process of giving reports to their commanders, gripped their holographic heads and fell to their knees. Ship commanders linked into the battlenet smashed the emergency disconnect button in their desperation to get away from the noise. Even the Abyssals seemed to falter.

The pain nearly knocked her out, nothing in her long career as a UNSC warship had prepared for the kinds of sensations a damaged human body could produce. "Fu… fuck!" _Dawn_ forced her mind to work past the red haze and fired her abused thrusters. The acceleration caused her shoulder to scream anew, but it put her out of the path of another volley of slugs.

"Dammit!" She screamed as she fired the MAC at one of the Abyssals. With only a small distance between them, the round took less than a second to cross the distance and impact, sending the alien spinning out of control, all systems dead. The other began to maneuver crazily, throwing off her aim.

Not that she could aim. The recoil of the MAC finished what an Abyssal shot started. The sudden agony nearly made her scream, which she avoided by biting down on her tongue, spilling the coppery taste of blood into her mouth. Her shoulder was dislocated, probably broken. Internal damage reports droned: _Massive damage amidships. Fires on decks 6 through 20. MAC inoperable. Critical damage to superstructure. Dawn_ forced herself to begin maneuvering as well, avoiding the hail of missiles now coming at her. That shot to the stomach had caused critical internal injuries. As she bobbed and weaved, a steady stream of blood trickled from the side of her mouth. A feeling of nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

She started to slow down, the internal damage screwing with her reactor output. The missiles began to close in, faster than the remaining point defenses could knock them down. She couldn't put out anything in return, missiles would have required a steady hand, something she was sorely lacking. Blood began to clot around her wounds, but it wasn't happening fast enough.

Warheads began to detonate all around her as automated systems attempted to juke around them. Shrapnel plinked off her armor, tearing through metal, cloth, and flesh. Several times she dodged around one missile, only to move into the path of another, forcing her to endure massive g's as emergency thrusters fired. The sudden course corrections threatened to rupture a couple of her more damaged internal structures.

 _Dawn_ was too slow. A warhead just barely scraped her, detonating into her side. The explosion damn near gutted her, creating a gash from which crimson red blood heat from the blast scorched the area around the wound, and also severed the power conduits to the engines, leaving her drifting.

Darkness nibbled at the edges of her vision. She could feel the ends of her limbs going numb, shock setting in. Over the radio, a voice yelled at her, but it was muffled and distant. "D… dammit! No! It… it can't end like this!" But it would. The Abyssal closed, guns trained on a unpowered, unresisting target. Soon the threat would be eliminated, and the Abyssals would again be unopposed.

Or they would have been, if a swirling rip in space-time had not opened right in front of the alien. Even the strange properties of the Abyssals could not withstand a flank speed ramming by 200,000 tons of UNSC heavy cruiser.

"This is UNSC _Hope Springs Eternal_ , on station!"

The Abyssal crumpled like a soda can as the cruiser railroaded it. The ship flipped and decelerated, its precisely calculated course coming within 50 kilometers of _Dawn_. Hanger bays opened along its flank, and lights shot out to illuminate her.

The relief that she felt with the sudden appearance of the ship was drowned as pain of multiple critical injuries pushed its way to the front of her mind. Her body was wracked by a series of harsh coughs, causing her to double over and spit out blood. One final damage report filtered into her mind. _Core damage. Shutting down non-essential systems._ It was too much for her body to handle. As _Dawn_ slipped away, she was dimly aware of something large approaching her, but the darkness consumed her vision and she knew no more.


	4. Chapter 4

/UNSC _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ /

/INTERNAL SUBSYSTEM: MEDICAL/

/MONITORING: ACTIVATED, PATIENT 890 AB/

"Monitor's online… fuck! She's flatlining!"

"She's lost way too much blood! What type is she anyway?!"

"Analyzer can't make heads or tails of it! Just give her all the O negative we've got!"

"Dammit, stay with me! Can we risk CPR with these internals?!"

"Do it! If we don't, she'll die anyway! Hartmann, get that respirator going! Hikowa, get a cryo tube ready in case we need to freeze her!" The sick bay of the _Hope Springs Eternal_ was the picture of controlled chaos. Corpsmen rushed about, attempting to stem the flow of blood from _Forward Unto Dawn_. Every single bandage, drug, and biofoam canister in the room was being thrown at her in an attempt to keep her massive injuries from killing her.

No matter what they did, the bleeding just wouldn't stop. Bandage after bandage was thrown into the incinerator, soaked through. Biofoam seal after biofoam seal was applied, only for the in built adhesive to fail in the face of the blood flow. The corpsmen couldn't figure it out- in fact, they couldn't figure out how she was still bleeding, or still alive after spending nearly two hours floating unprotected in vacuum.

"Brain activity flatlining!"

"Sir! We've got to ice her, now!"

"We can't, dipshit! Not with these wounds, it'll kill her!"

"Yeah? What do you think's gonna happen if we _don't_ , asshat?!"

"Fuck it! Stick her in, do it now! Give her all the cryo juice we got!" The corpsmen stuck her with a triple cytoprethaline dose and manhandled her into an emergency medical cryo tube, one of several kept in the medical bay for situations just like this. Once in, the adaptive lining inside conformed to her body shape, keeping her immobile. The tube lid sealed shut with a hiss, and biomonitor readouts sprang to life on the control panel. All of them were in the red.

"Shit… shit!" One of the corpsmen punched the wall with a bloodied hand. "What the hell went wrong?! What did we do?!"

"More accurately, what _didn't_ we do?" HM1 Hikowa brought up a holographic tally of the ship's medical stocks. "We used every treatment we have on board. Hell, the only thing we didn't use was the elite medicine!"

"What the shit? Why do we have that hinge-head shit on board?!"

"Command wants it in case of joint ops with the split lips." She closed the display and turned to appraise the cryo tube, now frosted over. "What the hell is she, anyway? The scans are so goddamn weird, it's almost as if she's not even human!"

"Fuck if I know. What about that gear we sent down to the resident eggheads?" Hikowa shook her head.

"It's still sitting in a hangar bay. That shit weighs at least ten thousand tons, according to the scans they've done. They needed a special Pelican to drag it all in." That got the room's attention.

"Holy fuck. Ten thousand? On her?" The corpsman pointed to the lithe figure frozen in the cryo tube.

"More. The equipment they brought on board couldn't figure out the exact density of that stuff. It was like something about the material was messing with the readings. The sensors gave out and just threw out a low-end approximation. They think it might actually be more than five times as heavy."

"Jesus." One man let out an appreciative whistle. "How'd she even move around with this? I saw the footage from captain Garcia's helmet cam, she was dancing around like Pajari during the Olympics of '36."

"Fuck if I know." With the conversation having reminded them all of the patient under their care, the room turned serious. All the corpsmen present turned back to either monitor _Dawn_ 's status, run more tests on the abundant blood samples, or simply wrack their brains for any possible treatments they might have forgotten.

* * *

Vice Admiral Thomas Lasky ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble on his chin. Twenty four hours without sleep, five times as long without a shower. There was no down time for a flag officer these days.

He watched emotionlessly as the last Abyssal icon disappeared on his tactical display. Combined fire from the _Infinity_ , several heavy cruisers, four battleships, and three entire frigate squadrons had finally taken down the last three ships. Reach was safe once again.

At the cost of over half the fleet. The final loss counts scrolled down his screen. UNSC _King of Kings_ , UNSC _Scorpia_ , UNSC _Harker_ , UNSC _Zeus_ , UNSC _Colossus of Rhodes_ … the list went on and on. Lasky delegated a dumb AI to perform the standard casualty compilations and send the report off to FLEETCOM. He didn't think he had the will to deal with yet another casualty list.

A lieutenant waved at him to get his attention. "Sir. Shall I give the order to cease evacuation?"

Lasky forced his mind to start processing. In his current state, it was proving hard to digest any new information. "Yes. Tell them admiral Lasky said so. If the freighters complain about their pay, forward their complaints to ONI."

"Yes sir." The lieutenant turned back to his console and gave the order for civilian evacuations to cease. Lasky massaged his temples, trying to think of what else he had to do. Years of training and experience asserted themselves, cutting through the fog and telling him what had to be done.

"Roland. How do fleet munitions look?" A small, yellow, holographic WW2 fighter pilot popped up in the holotank.

"Not good, admiral. We don't have enough MAC rounds in the entire fleet to supply a destroyer, missiles stocks are a joke, and don't even get me started on our nukes! Factories on Reach are gonna be working over time, we might even have to call in a couple shipments from Mars."

"Right. What about captain Khalid on the _Eternal_? Did he pick up the unknown? We need to figure out how it was doing that!"

Roland mimed listening to a radio, putting two fingers against his ear. "Captain Khalid reports recovery complete, says it's a _she_ by the way. He's also putting in a formal request for any available support."

Lasky frowned. This couldn't be good. "What kind of support are they requesting?"

Roland spread his arms in an all encompassing gesture. "Extra security, more medical personnel and equipment, the works. Sounds like they're having a rough time dealing with their guest."

Lasky felt his heart sinking. "Security? On a scale of marine to Spartan, what kind of security do they want? Also, we're stretched thin on meds as it is, _Infinity_ 's sick bay is about to start tearing up uniforms for bandages!"

"Apparently, their new friend was dancing around with upwards of 10,000 tons of mystery metal on her back. What kind of security do you _think_ they want?"

It was moments like these that sometimes made Lasky regret not taking that medical discharge back at Corbulo. He pulled up rosters of available Spartan IVs on board _Infinity_. The list was discouraging, to say the least.

"Roland, are you sure this is all we have?"

"Yes sir, most of our Spartan fireteams are deployed already. In fact, NAVSPECWAR just sent a request for an additional fireteam for Horizon."

The holotable shook as Lasky slammed his fist into it. The bridge crew around studiously pretended not to notice his outburst. "Goddammit! Don't they realize that leaves us with exactly _zero_ Spartans on board?!"

Roland held up his hands in a placating gesture. "There, there now. Horizon is a rather important world, and NAVSPECWAR thinks they actually have a decent chance of pushing the Abyssals back there."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, you know." Lasky leaned against the table, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Also, just to let you know, we do have one more Spartan on board." That got Lasky's attention. He frowned, trying to remember if a fresh fireteam had come aboard recently. "Well, he's not exactly a Spartan _IV_ , per se."

* * *

/REMOTE UAV UPLINK… ESTABLISHED/

The drone buzzed over the cityscape, hugging the ruins of skyscrapers and bridges. Enemy fire licked up at it, but the AI deftly maneuvered around them. In return, it loosed a swarm of micro-missiles from the drone's onboard silos. The onboard tactical procedures evaluated the chances of kills at near zero, but considered the suppression effects of the barrage worth it.

A light tap on the controls told the drone to veer left. It came around the burned out ruin of a spaceport-

-and immediately came under heavy fire. Apparently, the drone had wandered right into an enemy command post. The drone activated automatic evasion procedures, juking frantically as particle beam and plasma shot towards it. Missiles locked in, only to be engaged by an onboard jamming suite and sent crashing into buildings. Inevitably, with the amount of fire coming up, a shot got lucky, blowing out an engine and sending the drone spinning into a nearby building. The last thing the camera saw was a wall of solid instacrete growing larger very quick-

/UAV UPLINK - TERMINATED/

"Dammit!" The marine hit his tacpad in frustration. A full squad crouched behind him, aiming their weapons nervously in every direction.

The squad leader, a corporal, called out."Anything, Hong?"

"Drone got taken out, confirmed location of enemy command post, grid 4-kilo, alpha 8!"

"Roger that. Chief! We found it!"

The armored behemoth crouched near the window didn't speak, but gave a small nod in confirmation.

"Hear that, chief? Let's start the music, shall we?"

"Affirmative." Unseen by anyone, CTN-049 smirked. Diving into an inner space only she could know, she began to activate program after program. Digits and data swirled around her, and she deftly manipulated them as only an AI could. A torrent of data flowed through and around her, and she drank it in, greeting the ones and zeros like a human would an old friend. Subroutines split off, some categorizing data, others interpreting it, still others deciding on courses of action, in a finely orchestrated digital dance. And in the middle of all of it, Cortana stood, like a conductor, making sure all worked together and none interfered with anyone else.

Yottabyte level firewalls were torn down with ease, false paths and detection codes disabled or trapped. Billions of subroutines were created and destroyed for the sole purpose of launching overwhelming DDOS attacks. Critical networks were subverted or shut down, Trojan horses masquerading as allied programs infiltrated and wiped out entire sections of program. And through it all, a single program, just a few kilobytes in size, spoofed its way through the electronic chaos and integrated itself into the CPU of the Abyssal command platform. It instantly copied all relevant data from across the local Abyssal battlenet and sent it as a burst transmission, utilizing the alien's own compromised transmitter. Its task done, the penetrator was wiped out along with the remnants of the Abyssal's code when a logic bomb went off.

This electronic duel, this dance of bits and bytes, a ballet of binary, was over and done with within the space of half a second, an eternity for a metastable AI such as Cortana. The enemy armor column was in chaos, all systems dead. That was the marines' cue. They dropped rounds into mortars, and electromagnetic rails launched the ordnance on arcing trajectories. The time on target barrage, coordinated by central computer, dropped all the shells onto the target at the same time. VT and direct impact warheads exploded, cratering armor and scattering shrapnel. The Abyssals barely had time to moan before the second barrage landed.

"Skywatch, this is Obsidian Actual! All targets confirmed destroyed, data retrieval accomplished. Requesting extraction, repeat, requesting extraction!"

"Confirmed Obsidian, extraction is on its way, ETA 25 minutes. Hold tight guys, NAVSPECWAR isn't leaving anybody behind."

"Roger that, Skywatch, we'll buy the drinks! Obsidian Actual, ou-"

"Hey, chief, wake up!"

/UNSC TACSIM END/

The Master Chief blinked twice. _Dammit._ He'd been too engaged in the simulation, replaying his last mission on Terrador II, trying to learn from it and improve. He'd allowed himself to lose situational awareness. He couldn't do that, especially in these times.

"Hello? Anyone in there? Wink if you hear me, m'kay?"

"What is it, Cortana?"

Cortana made a throat clearing sound. "As I was saying, admiral Lasky just called us to the bridge. You were oh so interested in your video you didn't even notice. Slipping in your old age, huh?"

"Getting snarky in _your_ old age, I see." He pushed back from the terminal in his cabin. The specially reinforced chair groaned as it was relieved of the weight of a fully armored Spartan II.

The Master Chief picked his helmet up from where it lay on the table. He looked at the battered titanium, into that orange visor. To him, that helmet was simply a tool, something to accomplish the mission with but to the rest of the UNSC and the species it represented, it was something more. It was a symbol. A civilian, too exhausted to move, would stand when that visor glowed out of the dark. A marine, too wounded to fight, would charge towards the enemy, howling a wild battle cry, when that visor appeared from the dust. The tides of entire battles had changed when that visor appeared, the troops who had no more fight in them fighting like they never had before.

That had been the Covenant War, and in this war it was no different. That visor, that helmet, seemed to tell everyone who saw it: hey, it's okay now. You got this. We're gonna win this.

He put it on, hearing that familiar hiss as the environmental seals engaged. Displays blinked to life, each one an old friend to him. He was no longer John-117, the person. He was the Master Chief, the Demon, humanity's sword and shield.

"Hey, chief." He turned to look at the holotank where Cortana stood, arms crossed, smirk on face. "Yank me."

* * *

"Roland, how the hell did the Master Chief come on board without me even knowing?"

"I _tried_ to tell you. He came aboard a day ago, after _Ishimura_ 's battle group got back, but you weren't really paying attention. I believe you said something like 'Not now, Roland, kind of a bad time'?"

Lasky grimaced. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Yes sir." Lasky pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What now… oh, right. Prep two marine fireteams, we're sending them over with the Chief. Also, send the meds _Eternal_ requested with them."

"Roger that, sir. You should also know he's at the bridge now."

Lasky stood up, straightened up his uniform, rubbed his eyes, and just generally tried to look presentable in front of humanity's greatest hero. "Let him in."

The doors slid open, silent on their magnetic tracks. "Sir. Reporting for duty."

"At ease, Chief. Let's get down to business. I assume you've seen the recordings by now…"

* * *

 _Dawn_ floated, seemingly weightless. She looked around, but couldn't tell where she was. Frankly, she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She felt so damn tired. Yeah. She just wanted to sleep…

"My, you sure are a mess, aren't you?" If she could have, _Dawn_ would have tripped in surprise.

"Wha-? Who's there? Show yourself!"

A giggling sound came from the darkness. Normally, a mysterious giggling noise wouldn't have comforted anyone, but this was different. It was a warm sound, one of genuine amusement. It made _Dawn_ feel like she was wrapped in a warm, soft blanket.

"Oh my! Has it really been that long, you don't even recognize your own cousin anymore?"

Her surroundings suddenly transitioned into a warm golden-orange color. A swirling portal manifested in front of her, and out stepped a girl. She looked to be about the same age, if a bit older, as _Dawn_. She was clad in a UNSC officer's uniform, cap canted to the right. Short brown hair fell around her shoulders, a SMG at her hip.

She grinned at the stunned look on _Dawn_ 's face. "You _Charon_ s are as cute as I remember! I always preferred you over the _Paris_ es, what with their stuck up-edness, going on about how _heavy_ frigates were better than _light_ frigates."

"Wh-who are you?"

The girl waggled a finger, other hand resting on her hip. "A-a-a-a-ah. If I told you that, it would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it? Suffice it to say, you'll be seeing me soon."

 _Dawn_ frowned. She was confused as all hell. "Where… where am I?"

Something in the girl's expression changed. It was sadder, more serious. "You… how do I say this… took some bad hits." She seemed to wince at the thought, and _Dawn_ had a sudden thought - exactly _how_ bad was she injured?

"Right now, you're frozen in a cryo tube on the UNSC _Hope Springs Eternal_. Your vitals are going, you're so weak right now you're halfway back to the Outer Planes. That's how I managed to reach out to you, stabilize you and bring you back a bit, but that's really all I can do."

What kind of injuries would be so bad as to require a deep freeze? She was confused, and, quite honestly, extremely scared. "What do you mean, the rest is up to me? Why are you here in the first place?"

The girl walked closer and put a comforting hand on _Dawn_ 's shoulder. "I was the only one close enough to talk to you. The UNSC didn't know how to fix you, so you're going to have to do it yourself."

"Wait, fix myself? I don't know how to fix a toaster! How do I repair myself?"

The girl smiled a sad smile, the look in her eyes changing, distant and reminiscent of someone remembering . "You're the first, you know. You'll be the leader, our symbol. You're the one who's going to save them, when no one else can. You're going to give them hope, lead them through the dark to a new dawn. It's a large burden for a frigate, and you'll want to quit, but remember that I wouldn't have anyone but you shoulder it."

She cleared her throat. "I'll give you a hint, the answer's in your equipment. If you can wake up, fight just a little longer, you'll know what to do. You'll make it, I know you will. Got it?"

"I-I think so…"

"Good." She straightened up now, hands folded behind her back, expression serious. "Break time's over. Go now, they need you." _Dawn_ 's surroundings began to fade, turning white. She vaguely heard the sound of frantic, shouting voices, and realized she felt very cold. "If you can make it past this, well… I'll see you in a few."

And then she awoke, to the sound of alarms, the frozen confines of a cryo tube, and the shouts of corpsmen as her vitals flatlined and her body failed.


	5. Chapter 5

/LETHBRIDGE INDUSTRIALS/

/POWER ARMOUR SYSTEMS ENGAGED/

/HRUNTING/YGGDRASIL MARK 45D-T "GOLIATH" … ACTIVATED/

The powered exoskeleton stomped across the hangar deck and backed up against the old Albatross shuttle. There, external magnets secured it to the heavy dropship's sides, allowing the marine piloting it to hop out. The man was dwarfed by the fusion-cell powered suit, whose titanium armored chassis stood nearly half times his height. A T361-C Valhalla rotary cannon hung menacingly from its right arm, complementing the tri-barrel coil gun on its left shoulder and the massive 200 mm rocket pack on its right shoulder. Its left arm had no armament, simply consisting of a massive hand capable of picking up a Mongoose, crushing it and tossing it 200 meters.

Two of these behemoths, made possible through technology derived from the SPARTAN programs, hung from the sides of the Albatross. The reason they were there was the nature of the security they would be conducting. Vice admiral Lasky had decided that there would be absolutely no chances taken with an unknown who'd proven to be capable of wearing 10,000 or more tons of equipment with ease.

In that vein, a Scorpion tank hung from the bottom of the craft and the marines had somehow managed to fit several Spartan Lasers into a hold already crowded with rocket launchers, railguns, and several canisters labeled only "NOT TO BE HANDLED W/O LVL 10 HAZOP EQUIPMENT".

The Albatross groaned under the increased burden, but its systems indicated it'd still be able to fly. At least, that was until the Master Chief boarded it.

All of the poor dropship's warning systems went off simultaneously. The weight warning, multiple hull stress warnings, hold crowding warnings, powerplant overload warnings, just to name a few, began blaring at levels that even John winced at slightly through the soundproofing of his helmet. They nearly deafened the hapless pilot sitting in the cockpit. From behind the reinforced door, Chief heard the alarms, along with the pilot screaming in pain, using some very creative curses, and trying to shut off the alarms, all at the same time.

The alarms finally died down and the pilot, who hadn't been wearing his protective equipment, stumbled out of the cockpit, a slight trickle of blood coming from his left ear. "Godammit! What, the hell, do you not understand about not overloading the dropshi… oh, uh, sorry Chief. Didn't see you there. I'll just, uh… go clean myself up. Sir."

John watched the pilot go, clutching his ear. "Um, I think that might have been us, Chief." Cortana said, almost meekly.

"Probably." Several marines and assorted naval personnel were now staring at the dropship and, accordingly, at John. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he hit the button to close the rear door of the craft.

"Wait! Hold the door!" John pressed the hold button on the door control panel, allowing a lab-coated scientist and his marine escort to jump onboard.

"Thanks… didn't think… we'd make it." The marine finished panting and stood up straight, then did a double take when he noticed who was in the dropship with him. "Holy mother of- Sir!" The man snapped to attention, rendering a picture perfect salute. The scientist next to him, not nearly as fit as the soldier, took another twenty seconds to recover. After he did, his salute was also rather sloppy.

"At ease, corporal." John read the man's rank on his HUD. He also tilted his helmet in acknowledgement of the scientist. "Dr. Morgan."

"Sir! I apologize for the entrance, sir, we had to run all the way from B deck." Ah, that explained the disheveled state of the two. B deck was an entire 30 decks above the hanger the Albatross presently sat in.

"Don't worry about it, marine, I'm sure the big guy doesn't mind, do we Chief?" Cortana's playful voice came from the external helmet speakers.

John switched off the speakers to speak with Cortana privately. "Cortana, what have I said about jacking into the speakers without permission?"

"Well, you weren't doing the poor fellow's nerves any good, so I figured I'd put him at ease if you weren't going to. Besides, it's not like you were using them."

John had no answer to that, so he settled for simply smacking his helmet with his palm. The marine and the scientist glanced at each other, but before they could say anything a banging came from the Albatross' rear hatch.

"Hey, assholes, open up in there!" The marine's face paled.

"Oh, God no." He got up to open the door, his gait seeming more appropriate for a man walking to his execution. He activated the external speaker system, speaking into a microphone mounted near the hatch. "Who is this?!"

"You know who it is, asshat! Now, open up so we can get inside!" The pounding seemed to increase in intensity. The marine turned off the intercom and paused before hitting the button, the look on his face one of a man who regretted everything. The door opened with a hiss.

"Thank you, dickwad! Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Fuckin' hellbringers…" The marine grumbled the last part under his breath as the two flamethrower wielding troopers pushed past him into the cramped cargo hold. The pair briefly acknowledged the Master Chief, doing the bare minimum required to show respect to the Spartan, but otherwise treated him as just another obstacle in their quest to find a seat.

"Hey, mate, mind movin' over?"

"Yeah, me and mah bro need to sit down. No offense, just kinda tired."

"Yeah, these fuel tanks are kinda heavy, huh?" The hellbringers sat down, occupying two seats each thanks to their massive weapons. The marine who'd let them in found his seat taken by one of the flamethrowers. Not wanting to argue with the two pyromaniacs, the man settled for sitting on one of the supply crates.

The hellbringers proceeded to hold a conversation as if completely oblivious to the presence of a marine, scientist, and a Spartan. "So, what do you think we'll be doing over there?"

"I dunno. What kinda security needs all this?"

"Well, if it wasn't dangerous, they wouldn't have called us, right?"

"Hell yeah, man!" They went on like that for a bit, while more personnel slowly filed in. A full marine fireteam eventually milled around the dropship, waiting for the pilot to get back to shuttle them over to the _Hope Springs Eternal_. Conversations buzzed and mingled as the assembled personnel traded scuttlebutt.

"What the hell do we need _Goliath_ 's for? What're we guarding, a friggin' Halo?"

"Didn't you hear? Whatever we're guarding it took down three Abyssals, just like that!"

"No shit? I was pulling security, didn't have time to check the tacfeeds."

"Hey, hey, when we get there, I call dibs on the Goliath."

"Aw hell no, that thing's mine!"

"What are you shits talkin' about? You do realize there's two of those fuckers, right ? Anyways, I call tank, chicks dig tanks."

"And what would _you_ know about chicks, Harland?"

"Shut up, Rebecca!"

"NOOOOO!" A scream of absolute pain and despair interrupted the chatter. As one they turned to witness the pilot, sporting a fresh bandage on his ear, collapse to his knees at the sight of the load his ship would have to carry. "WHHYYYYY?!" He fell fully to the ground and curled into a ball, sobbing and muttering something about "mass limits" and "load bearing".

The marines glanced at each other. Inside John's helmet, Cortana found her voice.

"I think we broke him."

* * *

/UNSC _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ /

/MEDICAL SUBSYSTEM 21CT/

/CRYO SEAL: DISENGAGED/

/CRYO TUBE 12A: OFFLINE/

 _Forward Unto Dawn_ barely managed to grasp the emergency release handle and pull down on it. The front of the cryo pod swung open with a hiss of disengaging seals and escaping gas. She spilled out onto the floor, coughing and vomiting up bronchial surfactant.

The frantic activity in the sick bay ceased for a moment as the corpsmen stared, stunned. Nobody moved. They were unwilling to believe that somebody could simply _wake up_ from cryo sleep like that.

Then, a massive, retching cough came from _Dawn_ , and bloodied surfactant spilled out onto the floor. The room was instantly galvanized into action. Corpsmen rushed to and fro, some prepping a table for surgery, others administering syringes of drugs, all of them shouting orders back and forth.

"Get an IV ready!"

"Morphine, 20 ccs!"

"Prep surgery, go, go, go!"

Two corpsmen took hold of _Dawn_ , lifting her up and onto a gurney. "Come on, let's go, get her to surgery!" The two activated the gurney's anti-gravity systems, allowing it to float. They then began to rush her towards the surgery bay.

Fading in and out of consciousness, _Dawn_ managed to read one of the corpsman's name badges. She reached up and grabbed the front of her uniform.

"What the - hey! Let go!"

 _Dawn_ mustered her strength. "You're… Hikowa, right?" Her voice was barely a whisper, just enough to reach Hikowa's ears.

"Yeah, that's me. Let go of me already, tryin' to save your life here, in case you didn't notice!"

"Get… me to… my equipment…" Hikowa tried to pry _Dawn_ 's hand off the front of her uniform, not pausing in her rush to the surgery bay.

"The hell are you talking about?! We need to stop you from bleeding out, now! There's no time for your equipment!" _Dawn_ shook her head. She needed to convince the corpsmen to take her to her rigging. If what that other girl had told her was true, what she needed would be there.

"Not going… to be… able… to." She paused to cough a glob of blood and mucus onto her front. "Listen… to me."

"Dammit!" From Hikowa's perspective, seeing all the monitors and sensors attached to the dying girl in front of her, Hikowa could clearly see that she wouldn't make it.

But they needed to do something, dammit! They couldn't just sit by and watch her die without knowing they'd done everything in their power to save her! She'd seen enough sailors bleed out because the corpsmen were too busy to get to them, corpsmen forced to decide between the marine with the sucking chest wound and the one with the sliced open stomach.

"Ma'am? What do we do?" Hikowa suddenly realized she'd stopped running. The corpsman assisting her with the gurney looked at her with an expression consisting half of desperation, half of resignation.

"I… I…" She felt the grip on her uniform strengthen, just for an instant, making her whip her gaze back down to her patient.

"P… please… it's… the only way… you've gotta… believe me…" The hand finally relaxed, falling back to her side. She'd passed out completely.

"Ma'am?" Hikowa didn't hear the corpsman. Her world had narrowed down to just her and her patient. The girl was either going to surgery or to the hangar where her equipment was. There was no middle ground, no compromise, no second chances here. She'd have to make her decision, make it now.

"Fuck it! This is HM1 Hikowa, do you read me?!"

"Hikowa, this is Foster, we have the surgery bay prepped, get her in now!"

"Negative, I am taking her down to the hangar bay! Repeat, I am taking the patient to Hangar B, Over!"

"Hikowa, are you crazy?! Get her in here, now!"

"I'll explain later, just trust me! I think there's something about that equipment of her's that could help her!"

"You're out of your mind! Get over here, now! Hikowa, do you copy?! Hiko-" She shut off her radio with a snap, terminating the shouting match. The corpsman on the other side of the gurney stared at her open mouthed.

"Don't just stand there, help me get her in the elevator!" For convenience and rapid transport of casualties, the each hangar on the _Hope Springs Eternal_ was located directly beneath a sick bay, with at least two elevators always kept ready for transfer of casualties. The two corpsmen pushed the gurney in and Hikowa nearly broke the button for the hangar bay by punching it.

The shipboard AI sensed the presence of a casualty on board the elevator and gave it top priority in making it to its destination. As the elevator descended on its magnetic tracks, Hikowa could only pray. "Please let it still be there, please let it still be there."

The elevator opened with a pleasant ding. If it had arrived in the sick bay there would be an alarm blaring, in order to let everyone know there was a casualty coming up and that they'd better get the _fuck_ out of the way.

Hikowa settled for shouting. "Out of the way, assholes!" Marines and pilots scattered before her - if there was one lesson a UNSC servicemember learned early in their career, it was to never, ever get in the way of a corpsman on a mission.

A group of scientists crowded around _Dawn_ 's equipment, oblivious to the activities around them. They took measurements and excitedly compared notes, trying to make sense of the strange readings they got from her rigging.

Their little party was broken up when a marine, tripping over herself in her haste to get out of the way, crashed into one of the scientists, causing a chain reaction all around _Dawn_ 's rigging. White lab coats, clipboards and portable scanning devices fell to the floor, inadvertently clearing the path for Hikowa.

She slid to a halt in front of the pile of equipment, the gurney jerking to a halt behind her. The hapless HM3 following behind her could not arrest his momentum and the edge of the stretcher rammed him in the gut. As he rolled on the ground gasping in pain, Hikowa hauled _Dawn_ 's body off the stretcher and placed her in her rigging.

Hikowa knew that _Dawn_ couldn't hear her in the state she was in, but she decided to give her one last piece of encouragement. "Alright, I got you down here. It's all you now, don't go dying and wasting all my effort!"

* * *

 _The fairies lay dormant within the equipment. They had nothing to do, no tasks to complete, no repairs to effect. The guns lay silent, their crews untasked. The bridge was eerily quiet, navigators and communications fairies having nothing to do but lounge around. The reactor and thrusters were cold, their engineers inactive. Without_ Dawn _attached to it, the equipment was but an inert pile of metal._

General Quarters.

 _The announcement echoed throughout the inner compartments. Throughout the rigging, fairies awoke from their sleep._

General Quarters.

 _Gun crews, roused by the blaring alarms, slid down ladders and ran for their stations. They cycled the breeches, cracked open the magazines, and stared into their displays._

General Quarters.

 _The bridge dissolved into a frenzy of activity. Fairies rushed to and fro, manning the consoles, issuing orders to the crew. The only station unoccupied was the captain's seat._

General Quarters.

 _Engineers jumped from their bunks, rushing to get reactors spinning and engines warmed up. The fuel pumps started, feeding raw deuterium into the core. The engines glowed blue with anticipation._

All Hands, Man Your Battle Stations.

 _The damage control teams reported to their stations, only to realize the magnitude of the injuries they were dealing with._

 _Breaches on all decks._

 _Primary, secondary, tertiary armament disabled._

 _Venting atmosphere on decks 2-28._

 _Severe damage to core, magazines, and armor._

 _The crews nearly despaired at the magnitude of damage they'd have to repair, but they weren't called professionals for nothing. Patch kits were broken out, and orders given to seal the entrances to irreparable compartments. Fairies rushed to and fro, knocking aside equipment and crewmates in their hurry to reach the damage._

 _The groaning sound of tortured titanium echoed throughout the rigging as the flash of welding rigs lit up areas without power. The DC crews worked frenetically, patching holes and stemming the flow of atmosphere._

 _Several times, the teams managed to bring damage under control, only to have repairs fail, fires reignite, breaches reopen. Several fairies were incinerated in the blazes, yet they kept working, patching holes and fixing conduits._

 _It wasn't enough. The injuries were too numerous, too severe. They had to abandon several sections, vent several others. There just wasn't enough time, manpower or materials to do it._

 _Then, as if by a miracle, a fairy came forward, carrying a large, sealed bucket of green liquid, apparently the only one in their emergency stocks. It'd been presumed lost when the engineering departments were breached during the battle, but he'd found it buried beneath a pile of debris, unharmed._

 _The crew didn't waste any time. They rushed the bucket down to the engineering compartments, where they dumped it into the fuel lines feeding the reactor. The plasma, normally a purplish-blue color, turned a shade of bright green._

 _The plasma injectors took over, taking the ionized gas, imbued with the instant repair liquid, and pumped it along special conduits into_ Dawn' _s body. For a normal human, this would have meant fire and death, but for a ship like_ Dawn _, plasma was her lifeblood. The liquid permeated her cells, kicking cell division along the injury sites into overdrive. The energy from the plasma stabilized her, allowing the rapid regeneration to take hold. Slowly, bit by bit,_ Dawn _was coming back to life._

* * *

Hikowa stared, gaping at the sight. As soon as she'd placed the girl onto her equipment, it was as if that pile of metal had come to life. The metal had, for lack of a better phrase, wrapped itself around her, molding and attaching to her. Even the scientists, who'd been getting ready to start cursing the corpsman out, could only stand and watch.

Before their eyes, _Dawn_ 's injuries were knitting themselves back together. The gaping holes in her body glowed an eerie green color, and when it faded the lacerations would be just that much smaller, the bleeding just a little less. The equipment, or something in it, was actively healing her.

She nudged one of the scientists. "Um, doctor Steiner?"

The only response she got was the sound of fingers frantically tapping a screen as the scientist attempted to record everything she saw. In fact, as Hikowa turned to take in the scene, all of the scientists were writing on anything they could find, including notebooks, scrap paper, and the backs of photographs, not even bothering to straighten their lab coats or pick up their equipment. The floating holocams filmed everything, saving it for future analysis.

The worst of the wounds finally knitted themselves back together, and the flow of blood slowed to where the pools on the floor had ceased growing. Nobody spoke in the hangar bay, not even the corpsmen and MPs who'd come down from the sick bay to arrest Hikowa.

 _Dawn_ 's eyes slowly opened. She took in the scene around her, the marines, scientists, corpsmen, pilots and sailors all staring at her. She looked at herself, the equipment attached to her and the blood covering her. A nervous grin spread across her face.

"Hi?"


	6. Chapter 6

/INTERNAL SUBSYSTEM 160A4/

/ _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ INTERNAL DETENTION CENTER/

/CELL 13: MAXIMUM SEAL - ONLINE/

Three ODSTs stood just outside the cell, two facing inward, one facing outward. Their reflective visors and matte black armor revealed nothing about them. Even their armament was standardized, each wielding a semi-auto riot configured shotgun and a M20 smg.

Hidden in the roof of the corridor leading to the cell were several VX20/Sarin C nerve gas canisters and a turret meant to fire ricocheting flechettes, designed to indiscriminately shred whatever stood in front of it. If the ODSTs knew about it, they didn't show any sign of it. They remained as quiet and still as statues, guarding their prisoner.

That prisoner currently lay on a bunk inside the cell, bored out of her mind. _Dawn_ tried to find patterns in the polished titanium of the roof, but the metal was smooth and shiny enough to use as a mirror.

She turned to face the door of her cell, covered by an energy field and a heavy titanium grating. It allowed the guards to see in, but distorted her vision looking out and both could easily keep a Spartan II inside. She'd already poked it a few times, and the knockback from the field had slammed her into the wall and nearly reopened her wounds. _Dawn_ left it alone after that, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the ODSTs were laughing at her.

It wasn't too uncomfortable, though the experience of a bed was new to her. She knew vaguely what it was like from the past memories of the crew, but it was just so… soft. Even if it was nearly illegal to call the mattress an actual mattress, she couldn't stop bouncing on it. So bouncy! Bouncebouncebouncebouncebounce.

Some activity near the front of her cell. Were the ODSTs changing shifts? Maybe she could get them to send some painkillers in, even with the instant repair bucket she still felt sore and achy all over.

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… FLT CMDR UNSC _INFINITY_ /

/ACCESS GRANTED… DIRECT LINK/

"Vocal distortion fields?"

"Check, and set to mild."

"Loose biomatter disposed of?"

"I _watched_ you exfoliate, not that I wanted to."

"All implants quarantined from the network?"

"Roger that, only connection is to me personally. Any intrusions will die writhing and screaming."

"All pathological screens complete?"

"That's an affirmative, nobody's going to be giving anybody anything nasty."

As he walked down the corridors toward the _Eternal_ 's brig, Lasky and Roland were going over the security procedures. A slight voice distortion would prevent the prisoner from using his voice patterns to access classified networks and the disposal of loose biomatter would prevent DNA samples being picked up from skin flakes and loose hair. Implant quarantines would prevent any attempt at intrusions into the network via Lasky's personal connection, and pathological screens ensured there was essentially no risk of the transmission of unknown diseases.

"Remember sir, I'm going to be giving Chief a live feed of the meet & greet. Any sign that you're in danger, two tons of Spartan II will be there to haul thine ass out."

"Thank you, Roland."

"Sir, are you _sure_ you should be going in there? You are fleet commander. I know for a fact we have at least ten ONI spooks scattered throughout the fleet who'd be happy to do the interrogation, I fend off intrusions from their AIs every day. In fact - hold on… No, dammit! You can't come in here! I don't care if you have Sec 3 authorization, screw off!"

"Thank you for letting me know, Roland. I'll be fine. And by the way, it's a questioning, not an interrogation. Lasky, out." Lasky kept up a brisk pace as he marched down the hallways of the _Hope Springs Eternal_. Sailors and marines did double takes when they saw his shoulder bars, crashing into walls and tripping over themselves in their hurry to simultaneously salute and get out of his way. It probably had something to do with the two tons of super soldier easily matching his speed right behind him.

"Sir, with all due respect, I concur with Roland." Lasky gave the Master Chief a sideways glance.

"Explain."

"Sir, putting yourself, an important UNSC asset, in a room with an unknown is an unnecessary risk. We do not know its capabilities, nor its intentions."

Lasky sighed, but did not break his stride. "And you would have an ONI interrogator go in my place."

"With all due respect, in a situation such as this, it would be beneficial to have specially trained personnel handling it. "

Now Lasky stopped and turned to face the Chief. "Master Chief, what is the reputation of ONI among UNSC personnel?"

John hesitated, debating whether or not to tell the truth and risk bad mouthing ONI in the process. He thought back to conversations he'd overheard among marines. "Sir, among mainline UNSC personnel, ONI agents are considered… impersonal. Detached. Ruthless. Amoral."

Cortana chimed in. "Don't forget slimy, foul, sketchy, and a general consensus that the universe would be better off without them!"

Lasky nodded in agreement. "Thank you. And, in your personal opinion, is that the best face for humanity to present in a possible first contact situation?"

Again, John hesitated. He was highly trained in the arts of tactics and strategies, could out-interrogate an ONI spook, and knew people like the back of his hand, but when it came to one on one interactions like this he had to admit he was fairly clueless.

"By the way, the answer is no." Cortana whispered helpfully in his helmet. Unhelpfully, she'd left the external speakers on, leaving John little choice in his answer

"... I suppose not." Lasky nodded in agreement, already turning back around.

"There's another thing. I want to establish trust early on. It'll make all future interactions easier, and what better way to show trust than to send an admiral over? We've already screened for pathogens and chemicals, and I'm not exactly defenseless either." He patted the M6H pistol prominently displayed on his right hip. "I'll be fine. Just, Cortana?"

"Yes sir?"

"Don't make fun of the ODSTs."

"Yes sir."

* * *

A sudden commotion among the ODSTs alerted her that something was up. ODSTs didn't panic, but they could scramble. And scramble they did, attempting to bring weapons to left shoulder arms while simultaneously coming to attention. For the most part, they succeeded. As one, black gloved hands snapped to salutes, and the stomp of combat boots echoed in the corridor.

She propped herself up with one elbow and tried to crane her neck to see what was happening, but the shimmering energy field blocked her vision. She could tell something important was happening from the stiff postures and rigid movements of the ODSTs, but exactly what she couldn't tell.

"Hey! Are those- augh!" She clutched her side as it burned again, a streak of pain shooting up her spine. "Dammit! Are those painkillers I asked for here?! My everything's not feeling so good!"

One of the ODSTs nodded at an unseen entity, then stepped aside and hit a recessed control panel. His comrade did the same on another one, and the energy field suddenly flickered away, followed by the titanium grating pulling aside. "Oh, shit!" She had not been expecting someone to actually come in. In her surprise, she rolled off her bunk and face planted on the deck.

"Thank you, sergeant. I'll take it from here. A fireteam will be reinforcing you soon. Close the door." As she struggled to rise, she heard the sound of the barriers going back up. A gloved hand appeared in her field of vision.

"T-thanks." She muttered, accepting the assistance. Its owner pulled her back on her feet, where she swayed for a moment, blinking away the stars that swam around her head. One bad part of suddenly having a human body, pain. She'd found that out the hard way during that battle with the… she wracked her brains for the name, the Abyssals, yes, that's what they were called.

The person in front of her slowly resolved; a concerned face, an unfamiliar uniform, a rather undersized pistol in her opinion, and…

"Wah!" She nearly fell back to the floor. Three stars glinted from the shoulder boards. She hurriedly collected herself, smoothing out her clothes best she could, and mustered the sharpest salute she knew how to. "Admiral! I-I didn't realize, my apologies, sir!"

A surprised and rather confused look flitted across his face as he motioned for her to sit down. "At ease, at ease. Please, sit down." She sat down heavily on her bunk, stunned at the sudden entrance of a flag officer. She'd been expecting nobody at the best and an ONI spook at the worst, and according to the memories of her crew a visit by Death was preferable to a visit by Naval Intelligence.

The admiral took a seat on the plain metal bench bolted and welded to the wall. "I'm Vice Admiral Thomas Lasky, and I guess thanks are in order first. I'll admit, without you we would have lost the entire fleet, say nothing of the planet. So, you have my thanks, and the thanks of the entire fleet."

She replied, still a little starstruck. "Y-you're welcome, sir! I guess…" She couldn't fathom what an admiral was doing talking to _her_. And without any visible security around him, except that pistol.

"Unfortunately, this is not a social visit, and my time is limited. So, let's get down to business." He shifted forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. "I am, and I'm guessing every single person in the fleet is as well, very interested in knowing: what are you?"

"Sir! Charon class light frigate, FFG-201, UNSC _Forward Unto Dawn_ , sir!"

Admiral Lasky raised an eyebrow at the enthusiastic statement. "You'll forgive me if I have a hard time believing that. I've seen a lot, but humans claiming to be destroyed warships is new."

Her face flushed and she hurried to defend her claim. "It's true! I can recite all my statistics if you want! You've probably seen my equipment, run an analysis on that! It's all to scale with a full size Charon class! Uh, sir!"

Lasky made a placating gesture with his hands, leaning back in his seat. "Easy there, nobody's accusing you of lying." He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to see her from another angle. "I've seen the recordings. You were doing a number on the Abyssals. So tell me. Why should I trust you?"

That threw her for a loop. "Huh? S-sir?"

Lasky steepled his fingers, a frown. "Look at it from my point of view. We're just about to lose, the fleet's shot to hell and we've got nothing to show for it. Then you show up, blow away half the Abyssals, and you expect us to take you at your word. How do I not know you're not an Abyssal yourself? Maybe sent to infiltrate the fleet, take out a few commanders while you're at it?" He knew the Abyssals would consider the loss of nineteen ships inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

"Well, you're here. By yourself. So you must trust me a bit, right? Sir."

"That's beside the point. Please, answer the question." Lasky's eyes flicked up to the roof where a plasma turret hung, concealed, ready to burn everything not Lasky to the ground. He hoped it wouldn't have to be used.

"Look, I don't know anything about these Abyssals! The only reason I know the name is that survivor I rescued. Where is he, anyway? Is he okay?"

"Captain Garcia is none of your concern." Lasky waved the question away. "You really don't know about the Abyssals? None of their history, their tactics, their victories?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Nothing at all, sir."

"One second." Lasky tapped his earpiece. "Roland, physiological analysis?" He made sure that he subvocalized only, letting his CNI implant pick up the words.

The aggrieved voice of the AI came back to him through the same implant. "Hold up. Just killing off a few last probes… there! Take that, you two exabyte excuse for an AI!"

"Roland?"

"Right, right. Accessing cameras… thermal signature is consistent with the average person telling the truth and voice patterns are too, though without a baseline we really have no idea."

"Thank you. Also, while you're at it, file a report to FLEETCOM. They'll be interested in this."

"Right away, sir." He clicked the radio off, returning his attention to the girl in front of him. He found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see her as anything _but_ a girl.

"What was that?"

"Just taking care of some administrative issues, nothing serious." He lied, his technique smooth after years of practicing against ONI operatives. Even so, she looked at him with suspicion, though she said nothing. "So, _Dawn-_ "

She winced. "Please don't call me that."

"What? _Dawn_?"

She nodded vigorously, shivering slightly at the sound. "Yes. If you could avoid saying that, please do, sir."

"Why? Isn't that your name?"

"The way you say it, you're italicising it. It… I don't know, really, really grates for some reason, sir."

"How the hell can you tell?"

"I just can, okay?!" Lasky raised his hands in a calming gesture.

"Alright, alright. Dawn. Is that better?"

Dawn nodded. "Yes, very. Thank you, sir." She couldn't explain why, but the way Lasky had been saying it grated on her mind. It felt as if the word was physically trying to pull her being in two.

"Okaaay." Lasky shook his head, this was way too much for him to handle. He tried to steer the conversation back to its intended purpose. "I guess I'll have to take your word for now." A brief pause, as he tried to remember what he was going to ask next. "A very important question. Where did _you_ come from?"

"I…" Truth be told, she didn't really know. She had fuzzy, half-remembered memories, more feelings than anything. Feelings of peace, of warmth, and of safety, but also a strange feeling of… _guilt_ , more than anything, twisting inside her. But, if the memories of her crew and her own experiences as a ship had taught her anything, using vague "feelings" as an answer would not net her any favor in the eyes of the admiral.

She decided to just tell it as it was. "I really don't remember much. Just… feelings, warmth, rest, those kinds of things. I'm sorry, sir."

Roland whispered in his ear, preempting his question. "Her body temp went up a little, but I think that's just an anomaly. All metrics are still stable, I think that's the truth, or at least how she remembers it."

Lasky sighed, he'd wanted at least a little backstory to work off of. "Well, if that's really all you remember, we can work off of that. But why now, of all times, do you show up?" He shot a semi-accusatory glance her way. "We could have used your help earlier. About fifteen years earlier, in fact."

Dawn felt her face flush red, and in her rush to defend herself she made a move to stand. Instantly, a panel in the roof opened and a turret dropped down. It swiveled to face her, the mouth of the barrel glowing a menacing blue color. She suddenly went very, very still.

"Please, sit down. The turret operators have itchy trigger fingers, and I'm rather enjoying our conversation." Chastised, Dawn plopped back onto her bunk.

"Uh… sorry, sir." She said, staring at her feet, her voice suddenly small and quiet. "It's just, I didn't choose to come back right now. I don't know how to describe it, it's like I was sleeping and then I felt… something brush me, and suddenly I heard voices." Lasky leaned forward, suddenly intrigued by the story.

"They were crying, screaming for help, for anything to come and save them. I couldn't bear it, I had to help!" She looked up, the beginnings of tears at the corners of her eyes. "Please, you have to believe me! If I could have come back earlier, I would have!"

"And without a doubt, that's the truth." Roland piped up in Lasky's ear. "Her metrics are almost textbook perfect for passionate honesty. I should know, I've read the textbook exactly one hundred eighty eight times now. Not sure why there's an entire section on that, though." Lasky nodded slightly at Roland's judgement, his own observations matched. Dawn was either the best actor he'd ever seen or she was telling the truth.

"It's alright, I believe you. No need to get upset." He took a good long look at Dawn, now wiping away the tears with jerky, almost angry motions. "The techs will question you about your equipment later, but for now I have one last thing I want to know."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Can I trust you to keep your word? Will you serve humanity, like you said?" Lasky didn't know where the question had come from, but it felt right to ask.

The reply was immediate, if a little shaky. "O-of course, sir. I keep my word." Lasky nodded and stood up, cuing the ODSTs to open the cell.

"Thank you for cooperating. I'll have a datapad sent to you with relevant historical background on it. It was nice meeting you, Dawn." The door sealed behind Lasky, but not before Dawn caught a glimpse of a massive green armored figure standing behind him.

"Wait. So Chief got back safe after all? Yes! Ye- agh!" Jumping up and down in celebration, a bolt of pain shot through her body again and she collapsed onto her bunk. "Dammit! Why didn't I ask him for some painkillers?!"

* * *

/INTERNAL SUBSYSTEM 160A4/

/ _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ INTERNAL DETENTION CENTER/

/CELL 13: MAXIMUM SEAL - ONLINE/

"What do you think, Roland?"

"You're asking me? I always thought the guy on the ground should give their opinion first, before the analysts finished all their 'data analyses' and 'informed evaluations'."

"Naturally." Lasky collected his thoughts, trying to decipher the girl sitting in the cell. "I think we can trust her. I'll admit, I've been wrong before, but something about her strikes me as honest. Still, increase the security around her cell for the time being, and I'm implementing a two-man rule for any decisions regarding her. Roland, double check all my orders regarding the prisoner and make sure they're sane and objective."

"Roger. So, we're referring to the prisoner as 'her' now?"

"Or Dawn. She deserves to be called something other than 'it', especially after saving our asses like that."

"You can't possibly believe she's actually FFG-201."

"Roland, that's what I'm going to believe for now, because any alternate explanations I could come up with would be even weirder." He broke the link and started off for the hangar.

Wordlessly, the Master Chief fell into step behind him. In silence, they walked towards the hangar bay of the _Eternal_ , where a Pelican would take them back to _Infinity_. The two Goliath powered armour suits stood there, guarding the pile of equipment sitting amongst the vehicles. There were no scientists present, not by choice but by the order of the medical personnel. Over the protests of the scientists, the medics had literally dragged them away to get some rest and food.

The pair halted in their tracks as a damaged Broadsword fighter was rushed by into the repair bays. On the other side of the hangar, a long queue of damaged single ships waited. The technicians worked as fast as they could, but there were simply too many.

Next to the Pelican sat a grim sight. Dozens of coffins, neatly lined up in rows and each one covered with the flag of a specific service branch, sat in a cordoned off area, watched over by a honor guard. The caskets constituted only a fraction of the casualties suffered by the _Eternal_ during the battle, as the rest sat in different hangars and storage compartments, all awaiting burial.

The Pelican lifted off, accelerating on an intercept course for the _Infinity_. As the dropship left the hangar, they got a good look at the damage _Hope Springs Eternal_ had endured. Huge black streaks marred the armored sides, and in places sections were simply gone. The ship no longer vented atmosphere, all the air in the breached sections long vanished. Several weapons emplacements were destroyed or, as in the case of a couple of dorsal turrets, ripped away. Craters marked where missiles had impacted, and a single massive crater indicated a nuclear blast. Only the ship's immensely thick armor belt had saved it from instant destruction.

Sudden flares of light marked where engineers labored to repair damage. If the rest of the fleet were close enough, Lasky would have been able to see identical flares on every single ship. Nobody had been spared damage. Even Cortana, normally able to find the right snarky phrase for each situation, couldn't find the words. Lasky found himself wishing for the days when all he had to deal with was massive Forerunner machines. At least he could fight those.

As if the depressing states of the ships under his command weren't enough, Roland piped in with a status report. "Sir, UNSC _New Alexandria_ reports that they cannot repair damage with on hand materials. They are requesting permission to withdraw to the Sol System in order to access a fleet dock, as there are no operational docks present in system."

"Granted. Tell them to come back as soon as all repairs are complete." As he watched from the cockpit window, the a pinpoint of light marking the battleship _New Alexandria_ peeled off from the rest of the fleet and jumped to slipspace. He'd miss the battleship, it formed a large part of the fleet's core firepower.

"Anything else, Roland?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. Report just in from Horizon." Lasky felt a shiver of apprehension run down his spine, he had a Spartan IV fireteam deployed there. Chief, also linked into the command circuit, perked up with interest as well.

"Did something happen to our Spartans?" Lasky asked, fearing the worst.

"No, surprisingly not. Fireteam Citadel is operating just fine, they're supporting Spartans 087 and 104 in mop up operations as a matter of fact. This report is from the fleet. They've managed to drive off the Abyssals."

Shock. "What? How? Last report said they were being slaughtered!"

"At 0800 local time, an unknown contact popped out of slipspace. It then proceeded to, and I quote, 'Completely wreck the Abyssals'. The fleet then proceeded to wipe out the remainder, casualty lists attached."

This was starting to sound very familiar to Lasky. "Do they know what the unknown is?"

"Funny you should ask. They've actually taken it into custody." Roland paused, as if checking to make sure he hadn't misread.

"It claims to be FFG-142, UNSC _In Amber Clad_?"


	7. Chapter 7

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… BTLN CMDR/

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION SIX-EPSILON/

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for I am loaded out with 20,000 rounds of 10 millimeter AP/HE fuck you." The microphone picked up the whisper and transmitted it to the powers that be who were watching through his neural link. Said marine currently sat in the cockpit of a Reaver Urban Combat System, trying along with the remnants of 21st Company to keep a veritable horde of civilians from breaking into the local UNSC base.

One day after the last Abyssal had been destroyed, Marines and Army soldiers equipped with heavy duty riot shields formed a solid wall, holding back the tide. Powered armor suits like the Reaver stood silently behind them, a menacing, missile armed presence guaranteed to make even the most hardened rebel or Abyssal think twice about an assault. An angry, frightened civilian, however, was a whole different breed of creature.

Shouted questions and demands mixed into a sort of white noise for the troops, a backdrop to their struggle. The civilians in direct contact with the cordon demanded, bargained, or pleaded to be let through, for their questions to be answered, or to simply be reunited with loved ones scattered by the aborted evacuation. By now, most of the soldiers had stuffed their ears with whatever was on hand, complementing the built in noise protection of their helmets.

Captain Armandez walked up and down the line, giving orders, whispering encouragement, or yelling back at the civilians to back off. At one point the line buckled, threatening to give in to the massive wave of humanity. She'd ordered one of the Reaver drivers to fire a short burst, just 100 rounds or so, from her rotary cannon into the air. Needless to say, the sight of the orange-red tracers arcing into the sky created much consternation among the crowd, though they weren't deterred for long.

"Back! Off! Now!" A squad of marines had finally had enough and were levelling weapons at the civilians. That wouldn't do, even if the people were technically committing an illegal act she couldn't have her troops aiming at unarmed civilians.

"Echo Squad! Stand down!" The marines looked around, surprised their CO had noticed their little episode.

"Captain! They're refusing to obey orders, and they're going to break through! If this keeps up much longer, we'll be forced to fire!" The marines appeared nervous, even loaded for bear as they were, since most of their rounds were simply stun. Every other soldier had been issued lethal rounds, and only one magazine apiece at that. More than enough to turn the scene into a bloodbath, but most definitely not enough to take all the civilians out before they rioted and stormed the base.

"I don't care! We're not about to turn this into a massacre! Air support will be arriving soon, just hold on!" 21st Company had been holding the line since early morning, when the shock of Reach's survival had finally broken and crowds had swarmed the base, demanding answers.

"Ma'am! Wyverns inbound, ETA three minutes!" Her primary comms officer shouted from his position near the temporary CP. That was good news, with a wing of AV-28s on her side she'd have a better idea of the overall situation, plus the intimidation factor they would provide. She just hoped that her people would hold on long enough, the troops were tiring and the crowd just kept growing.

* * *

Captain Garcia sat in the cabin the captain of the Eternal had lent to him. He stared at the floor, numb to the activity going on right outside the door. What else was there for him to do, after all? His ship was gone. He didn't know where his crew was. He was a captain, they needed engineers. He was an officer, they needed gunners. He was a commander without a command, a captain in name only.

When the buzzer above his door sounded, he didn't bother checking the person's identity. "Enter." A marine, kitted out with full combat gear, stepped into his cabin.

"Sir, if you would, please come with me. Admiral Lasky wants to see you" Garcia took a moment to straighten out his uniform, then stood up from the bunk.

"Of course. Could I know what this is about?"

The marine's answer was prompt and abrupt. "Classified, need to know."

"Very well, lead the way marine." If he was going to disappear, he was going to disappear with dignity. The marine nodded, then stepped aside for him to exit.

They walked through the hallways of the Eternal, the marine glancing around nervously and his trigger finger constantly twitching. If Garcia had to guess, he'd say that this guy had probably been 'requisitioned' by ONI, pulled away from his unit and given this task. Using Admiral Lasky's name was probably just a front. He felt sorry for him, the marine most likely had no more of an idea of what was happening than Garcia did.

"Marine, may I ask you a question?" The marine started at his voice, his entire body doing a small jump.

"I-I guess, sir."

"Thank you. Are you at liberty to tell me why Admiral Lasky wants to see me?" The marine looked around, making sure there was nobody near by, then leaned in close.

"Well, he didn't say I couldn't. Rumor has it- you know that thing down in the brig? Rumor has it that another one showed up at Horizon, just blew away the Abyssals! They probably want everyone who's had contact with the first one planetside."

So Lasky, not ONI, had actually asked for him? Of all the things he'd thought might be the reason, he hadn't expecting the appearance of a second girl with magic powers to be it. "Thank you, marine. Lead the way."

A Pelican waited in the hangar, rear door open. The coffins were gone now, the final rites done and the bodies taken to be dumped into recyclers. Now there was only business, ships were landing every few minutes, technicians rushing out to refuel and prepare them for their next trip. Broadsword flights launched from the tubes right below the bay while returning fighters lowered themselves to the deck.

The marine knocked on the side of the Pelican, then entered and lowered himself into a seat. Garcia followed, seating himself in a position from which he could see into the cockpit. The dropship was fueled, the pilot was ready, what were they waiting for?

He didn't have to wait long, as another marine jumped into the hold. He was followed quickly by a corpsman, a HM1 by her rank insignia. As soon as they were in their seats, the rear door closed and the Pelican lifted off.

The dropship began to heat up as they hit atmosphere, but the cooling systems absorbed the energy, keeping the inside nice and chilly. They sat in silence, mulling over the information they'd been given. As the one they'd be meeting was Admiral Lasky, all of them were going over the proper procedures for greeting an admiral and what they'd be discussing with him.

Suddenly, several flaming streaks fell past the Pelican, the shockwaves buffeting the ship.

"What was that?" One marine asked, his helmet knocked askew by the shock.

The corpsman spoke up. "There's riots all over the planet, local forces have called for backup. ODSTs are going in." They all thought about that for a second, ODSTs dropping in could only mean trouble for whoever was on the receiving side. Garcia only prayed that they would be far away from wherever the riots were.

* * *

Lasky frowned as his Pelican entered the atmosphere. FLEETCOM still hadn't gotten back to him about his report. Usually they'd have sent a response by now.

"Sir, UNSC _Newport News_ reports that transfer ops are complete. Their passenger has been secured and is being flown to Johnston as we speak."

"Thank you Roland. Send Newport News back to Horizon post-haste. They need every ship they can get over there."

"Aye, sir." Lasky broke the channel, coming back to reality. The dim interior of the Pelican shuddered as they fell through the atmosphere, and Lasky was forced to hold onto his seat to keep from being jolted about.

Looking through the cockpit, he could see the fiery streaks of SOEIVs going in. He didn't like ordering in the ODSTs, but the riots were getting out of hand and as overall commander of UNSC forces in the system he was responsible for putting them down.

Somewhere out there, he knew three other dropships were also heading planetside. Each carried its own very important cargo. Dawn was on one, the only few people who had had meaningful interactions with her were on another, and that new girl, In Amber Clad apparently, was on the third. If he hadn't been so worried about ONI interrupting, he'd have conducted the meeting on the _Infinity_. As it was, the only spook-free locations were on the surface.

Lasky looked over the meeting agenda he'd prepared and sighed. He had a lot of talking to do once he hit dirt.

* * *

/UNSC OPEN CHANNEL/

/REACH FLIGHTCOM/

/ACCESSING CHANNELS… LINKUP STARTED/

/FLIGHTCOM: Say again, Infinity, how many Pelicans? Over./

/UNSC INFINITY: FLIGHTCOM, we have four Pelicans inbound to Johnson AFB, say again four Pelicans, priority override Wilco Zeta Epsilon Three. Requesting empty skies out to 20 kilometers, over./

/FLIGHTCOM: Roger, Infinity, skies are yours. Sending routing data to you now, over./

/UNSC INFINITY: Wilco, FLIGHTCOM, complying with route now. Infinity, out./

Sitting in the passenger compartment of a Pelican, Dawn played with the tablet she'd been given. It was an awkward process due to the restraints clamped around her ankles and wrists, but she'd devised a method in which held the tablet with her four fingers and tapped at with her thumbs. Slow and tedious, to be sure, but the only other alternative was using her nose.

"Let's see… Admiral Lasky wanted me to read up on the history of the Abyssals… that would be… here, probably." She tapped the file labeled 'Library'. "Okay, we're in. So… here, this is probably good. 'A Current History of the Abyssal War'." She tried to touch the icon, but ended up tapping the title immediately to its left. "No! Damn!" She went back and tried again. This time, she was little too far to the right.

"Dammit! Too far! Too far!"

"Goddamn hitboxes! Too high!"

"Too low!" She finally got her thumb positioned over the book she wanted. Glaring at the screen, she slowly but surely lowered the digit. "Got it! Wait, what do you mean 'do you want the audio version?' I can read, you know!" It was a strange sight: a young girl, sitting in a Pelican, bound hand and foot, guarded by a squad of ODSTs, yelling at a tablet.

"Finally!" The book finally opened to the first page and for the first time, she had a glimpse of the war she would be fighting.

 _15 years ago_

Arcadia, 2570. Re-terraformed into a living colony, the formerly glassed world was thriving. Industry had returned to its surface, chipping away what remained of the glass, restoring the environment. People, some the former residents of Arcadia, once again roamed the streets of the settlements. Hope was in the air.

Private Julie Armandez marched down the streets of New Pirth City along with her platoon, marking the tenth anniversary of mankind's return to the world. The citizenry, normally reserved, allowed themselves a moment of wild revelry, cheering, throwing confetti and dancing in the streets.

As she looked around her, a sense of pride swelled in her chest. She'd heard stories from her mother about this place, about how once they'd had a house by the Inland Sea, and her mother would fish for trills to sell at the market. How the air smelled so sweet, especially on those days when the two moons were full and you could read by their light.

Her father had told her tales of working on the farms, how for kilometers all one could see was gently waving stalks of wheat. How he got lost in the fields once and survived for a week and a half eating nothing but corn. She always asked him to tell that one again, and each time he told it the story would get more outlandish, with her father waving his arms about while her mother shook her head and laughed in the background.

This had all been glass ten years ago, when the colony ships had touched down. Since then, with the help of the UNSC and advanced terraforming technology, the colonists had nursed the battered world back to life. They said that, in a few years, they might even be able to bring the trills back.

The parade rounded the corner, turning onto the main street. Most of the soldiers marching today had some connection to Arcadia, whether they'd lived here as children or had family from it or had friends who hailed from the planet. Nowadays, Arcadia was a massive agri-world, rivalling Harvest for scale of production. Its crops fed people across human space, and it was said in another ten years Arcadia might even replace Harvest.

Armandez didn't care about any of that. All she knew was that she was back on her parent's home world, finally seeing with her own eyes what she'd only heard about in stories.

The parade came to a halt, the soldiers coming to parade rest as the governor stepped onto a podium, preparing to read his speech. The crowd fell silent, waiting for her to speak.

"People of Arcadia, today we mark ten years since we returned. It's been a long, hard struggle, but we've come so far. I wish to thank you for all your efforts. It's truly been humbling, seeing how much we can accomplish when we come together. I am honored to be your leader."

Armandez stood with her hands behind her back, staring up with a stony face, as per regulations. This was a great day, and she wasn't going to ruin it by breaking out into a smile on a live broadcast.

"Look at our world! Ten years ago, nothing lived! Now, with our technology and our labor, we grow as much as Harvest! The name Arcadia, across human space, brings to mind fields of wheat, visions of great cities and glittering waters. It is all thanks to you. Now, I've held you long enough. I declare to you all, let the celebrations begin!"

As the crowd went wild, the soldiers held their formation for one more second before also dispersing. Armandez ran over to her squad leader, an Arcadia native, and gave her a massive bear hug. She squealed, "Isn't this great?! Ten years! Can you imagine?!"

"Yeah, yeah, get off Julie. Remember, we're still on duty. We're supposed to provide security for the celebrations, keep anyone from getting too excited."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say! I know all you want to do is party!"

Miranda glared at her for half a second longer before breaking into a massive grin. "You know me too well, Armandez. We're not supposed to drink on duty, but is there a bar around here? You know, just so we can assess the situation and supervise the patrons?"

"Yep! Come on, I'll take you there. Grab the squad!"

"One second. Mayer! Dubois! Get the rest of the squad! We're falling in for drinks!" The two marines grinned, saluted, then ran to find the others. The squad gathered and marched off to the bar in order to conduct a recon in force.

Fifteen minutes later, weapons leaning against the stools and helmets on the counter, the group was drinking away merrily, laughing and trading stories. "And then Laurent… Laurent tries to salute, but he's still holding the mop, so when he salutes, it comes up and hits the major in the face!" The squad roared with laughter while Laurent, face red, grinned and ducked his head behind his drink.

"Come on, Laurent, you gotta have something!" The private thought about it for a second.

"Well, there's one thing. So, this one time-" He never got to finish the tale. Cutting through the noise of the crowd, through the hubbub of the bar, through the slightly alcohol impaired senses of the marines, came a series of three high-pitched tones.

The marines whirled around, staring out into the street. The crowd had gone deathly quiet, everybody staring up at the PA loudspeakers.

"What was that?" Then, the loudspeakers blared again, answering the question. A series of five rising and falling tones turned their faces white.

"All citizens, please remain calm and proceed to designated evacuation zones. This is not a drill." The same five tones played again, followed by the message repeating. To anyone who'd lived through the Covenant War, these sounds could only mean one thing. Arcadia was about to burn once more.

"Oh fuck no." Outside, people were coming out of their shock. The joy and revelry were gone, replaced by grim determination. Some stood still, unable to believe their ears. Most of them, however, began an automatic response drilled into them from birth. They found their family members and began moving towards the evacuation zones.

"Everybody, on me!" Miranda was already strapping on her helmet. The others, figuring that it would be their last for a while, downed their drinks and followed her example. Armandez buckled her helmet strap, adjusting it so it sat comfortably on her head. She picked up her rifle and went through her mental checklist.

Magazine secure and full, bolt cocked, safety engaged, aimpoint synchronized. She sighted down the barrel of her rifle, making sure that the crosshairs projected in her HUD were consistent with the iron sights. As her drill sergeant had said, the crosshairs were nice to have but in the end the iron sights were always right.

"Come on, people, let's move!" Miranda was already moving onto the street, rifle out and ready to perform crowd control, the others close behind. Armandez moved to follow them, her mind in a daze, not truly comprehending what was happening. Her greaves, improperly adjusted, caught on the bar stool, sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Agh! Fuck!" She picked herself up slowly, kneeling in order to properly put on her armor.

"Come on, private, let's go!" Miranda's shout came floating through the door.

"One second!" Armandez finished adjusting her armor, then stood up, picked up her rifle, and ran out.

She had just exited when a shadow fell across the street. Everyone felt a shiver of dread crawl up their spines and as one they looked up. The burning wreckage of UNSC vessels fell from the sky, blotting out the sun. As she watched, one piece in particular, shedding debris and belching smoke, seemed to be heading right for her.

"Go! Run!" Someone screamed, breaking the paralysis that had overcome the group. Civilians screamed, soldiers yelled, and they all ran for safety. Julie dove back into the bar, hoping the sturdy construction of the building would protect her. The others ran for a building on the other side of the street and hunkered down.

Armandez locked eyes with Miranda. Her squad leader nodded at her one last time, then turned to yell orders at the rest of the marines. Armandez began to shout out to her, but then the wreckage hit and the world turned dark.

* * *

Captain Julie Armandez shook her head and growled. This was no time for flashbacks, not when she was holding back the crowd like this. The Wyverns were overhead, and the Reaver drivers were doing their best to look scary, but it just wasn't cutting it. The crowd was getting bigger and more agitated by the minute.

"Sir! We can't hold them back, we're about to go loud!" Her marines were clicking safeties off weapons, it was about to turn into a bloodbath.

She began to yell an order. "Stand do-"

BOOM

The sound of multiple heavy objects slamming into reinforced concrete hit them, followed moments later by a sonic boom that stumbled a few civilians.

The hatches on the pods hissed, then blew off in classic ODST fashion. The black armored shock troopers jumped out, stun batons and riot control guns raised and fell on the crowd, swinging, stabbing and shooting. Civilians went down left and right, electrocuted or knocked unconscious, as the other soldiers, sick and tired of not being able to fight back, joined in with a wild yell. The line of soldiers crashed into the riot, people knocking each other to the ground in panic. She saw the ODSTs take hold of multiple people and throw them to the ground, stunning and cuffing them. They were then unceremoniously thrown in a pile, bodies limp like ragdolls.

Armandez tried to rein in her troops, but saw it was useless. There was just too much frustration and anger, waiting to be taken out on something, anything. The Reaver drivers joined in, using grenade launchers loaded with tear gas to further pacify the civilians. A few Wyverns flew in close, using the force from their engines to drive the crowd to the ground. Soon, the riot was contained, all civilians either detained or knocked out. Through the commotion, an ODST lieutenant jogged up to her, coming to crisp attention.

"Captain Armandez?

"Yes, that's me. What is it, lieutenant?"

"Ma'am! Orders for you, 21st Company is to withdraw to Johnston AFB in order to conduct security ops, we'll take over here!"

"Johnston?" _Isn't that where all those tanks were heading earlier?_ "Very well, on our way. Let Johnston know. Thank you, lieutenant."

"Ma'am!" The ODST snapped a salute, then turned on his heel and jogged off back to his men. She watched him go, then turned to gather her men. Before she did so, she resynchronized her HUD crosshairs with her iron sights, remembering what her drill sergeant had told her so long ago.

* * *

Three Pelicans touched down at Johnston Air Force Base. Their engines shut off, their pilots completed the final checks. Guards, warned of the high priority and possibly dangerous cargo on board, swarmed the dropships, making a cordon around each. Tanks, brought in earlier that day, leveled their guns at the dropships. If anything on board the craft had hostile intentions, it'd die courtesy of sixty-six tons of HE spewing divine intervention.

Inside the first Pelican, Dawn felt the bump and hastily stowed her tablet, stuffing it into the pouch below the seat. Her guards stood up, roughly pulling her with them. The rear hatch hissed, equalizing the pressure inside the craft with the outside. It fell open with a clunk, letting sunlight stream in.

Garcia squinted at the sudden brightness that poured into his dropship. The corpsman, whose name he'd learned was Hikowa, stood and, shrugging off the protest of the guards, walked down the ramp first. Garcia followed, allowing the marines to go before him. He stepped out, blinking the last spots from his vision, and was greeted with the sight of a tank platoon, two companies, and an aviation wing pointing their weapons at him.

Hikowa stared down the barrels of at least fifteen MA5ds. Seven point six two millimeters wasn't very large, but looking down those barrels it suddenly seemed very, very over sized. The marines behind those barrels remained as still as stone, faces concealed behind grade 5 HAZOP masks. She risked peeking to the side to check the safeties on the weapons; all off. If she knew her equipment right, those canisters on their belts would contain all sorts of chemicals, and she'd be damned if that marine wasn't carrying a Splazer.

Finally, the ramp on the last Pelican dropped, and half the marines swung their weapons over to cover it. Almost as one, Dawn, Garcia, and Hikowa turned to see who it would be.

First came an ODST, clad in a Mk 6 powered exoskeleton. A recent development, the miniature servos and fusion cell essentially turned the ODST wearing it into a mini-Spartan, capable of keeping up with actual Spartans during operations. It did come with drawbacks though, requiring some augmentation and surgery to wear. The Mk 1 had been bolted to the user's skeleton through a series of connecting ports. In this case, the ODST was wearing attached to a specialized bodysuit, linked to his neural lace.

A girl, wearing a UNSC Navy BDU and a flattened officer's cap, stepped out of the hold, shielding her eyes with her bound hands. She stood there, trying to get her bearings, but her other guard gave her a power assisted shove in the back. She nearly stumbled over her bound feet, but recovered and gave the ODST a vicious glare.

"Move it!" She complied, moving in an awkward shuffle down to where six Warthogs waited. The marines with Hikowa, Garcia, and Dawn also motioned for them to move to the Warthogs, pushed in Dawn's case. They took up three Warthogs in total, the other three kept their guns ready and aimed at them. The barrier of marines stepped aside, the drivers revved the engines, and they sped off towards the buildings of Johnston AFB.

* * *

/JOHNSTON AFB/

/SUBSYSTEM 14.A.8/

/SEAL LEVEL: FIVE/

The bunker door closed behind them with an echoing thump. The marines stood near the walls, taking positions that were unobtrusive yet allowed them to observe everything. Hikowa, Garcia, Dawn, and the new girl looked at each other awkwardly, then took seats at the long table in the middle of the bunker. The new girl sat down carefully, touching as little as she could. It seemed like she was trying to minimize body contact with anything, whereas the others just plopped down into their seats.

The silence stretched on. Dawn swore she could hear crickets, even though they were underground.

She tried to break the tension. "So… should we do names?" Everyone in the room shot her a look, and she shrank back into her seat. "Sorry…"

At that moment, the door opened and Lasky walked in. "Sorry to keep you waiting, people." There was a rush to stand and salute, with all four of them knocking over their chairs. Lasky motioned for them to sit back down.

"There's no need for that here. We're way off the book, and I'm here to get things done. I'm not about to stand on regulation." He paused as he took a seat at the head of the table. "Captain Garcia. I'm glad to see you."

"Same, sir." Dawn took a closer look at the guy, and confirmed that he was the officer she'd saved.

"Ms. Hikowa. Good to have you as well." If her fuzzy and rather painful memories served her well, that was the corpsman who'd saved her.

"Dawn. Nice to see you've been doing well since our last meeting." She nodded, wondering what all of this was about. The other girl gave her a strange look, but jolted back when Lasky spoke next.

"And finally, In Amber Clad."

Everyone seated at the table, wondering who the girl was, did a double take and stared at her. The guards got in on the action as well, subtly craning their necks and leaning to get better angles. "Sir." The girl said, speaking up for the first time, seemingly unperturbed by the stares she was getting. "FFG-142, UNSC In Amber Clad. It's good to be back in action."


	8. Chapter 8

/JOHNSTON AFB/

/SUBSYSTEM 17. : ON/

/PRIORITY OVERRIDE: FLT CMDR 174A-TJL/

/SUBSYSTEM 17. : OFF/

Dawn nearly lept across the table to give In Amber Clad a flying tackle hugTM.

"I can't believe it! Oh my God, it's you! I finally get to met you! Can I have your autograph?! Do you have merchandise?! I'm part of the fanclub!"

As Dawn glomped on In Amber Clad, the others present traded looks, wondering who was going to pull her off. Two marines, unable to decide between laughing and d'awwing, finally stepped forward.

"Come on, off you go." They plucked her off and, holding her out in between themselves, plunked her back down in her chair where she continued to stare at In Amber Clad with starstruck eyes.

Lasky and Hikowa looked upon the scene with amusement, but Garcia focused on In Amber Clad. For some reason she was shivering, rubbing herself where Dawn had touched her as if trying to get something off herself. One of the ODSTs noticed him and whispered in his ear.

"She wouldn't let us touch her at all. AI shrinks couldn't figure it out."

"Huh?" Before he could think on it much longer, Lasky called the meeting back to order.

"That's quite enough. We're not here to have fun. Captain Garcia. Ms. Hikowa. Forward Unto Dawn. In Amber Clad. I'll assume you've received the briefings on the situation."

Nods around the table as everyone's attention came back to Lasky. In Amber Clad had also received a tablet on the way down from orbit.

"Good. Then, you'll understand if I need answers and I need them now. Every minute we spend playing two truths and a lie is a minute we aren't out there, holding the line." He paused and looked around the table. "Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Very well. Dawn, our last discussion was very enlightening, but there is one thing I still want to know. Maybe with two of you in the room, I'll get a better idea of what I'm dealing with."

Garcia raised his hand. "Before we begin, may I ask why you chose Johnston instead of Sword or Castle base? They're both more secure than Johnston."

"It's the only secure place I know ONI won't be listening in."

Lasky pulled a datapad out, tapped a few times, then slid it to the center of the table. "But first, some extra historical context for our new friends." A holoprojection sprang to life from the tablet. "If we're going to be working together, you'll need a better idea of our situation." He gestured and the projection zoomed out, a portion of it highlighting at the same time. "Human space, July 8th, 2570."

"Seems to be around pre-Covenant War size," In Amber Clad remarked, pinpointing key planets that had marked the borders of UNSC space. Dawn concurred a moment later.

"More, in fact. If you'll look there, you'll see we actually expanded past Harvest." He glanced over at Garcia. "I see that look, Captain. This information is all public domain, nothing classified is being given away here."

He waved again, and this time a single planet stood out. "Arcadia. Second most important agri-world after Harvest, population around 50 million, July 8th, 2570." Markers sprang to life around the planet, each tagging objects in orbit. "Fleet assets in orbit, July 8th, 2570." Data on the ships, their tonnage, length, beam, class, name.

"Quite a collection," Dawn said, looking admiringly at the UNSC _Midnight Repose_ 's stats. 800 meter long frigates? Yes, please!

The human personnel glanced at each other, knowing what came next. Lasky gestured, and the projection changed.

Now, instead of the vibrant, green world formerly occupying the image, Arcadia was a scorched, blackened ball of rock. Instead of the proud ships who had guarded it, the only companions it had were the shattered remnants of its twin moons. Of the flotilla, not even debris remained. Fires raged out of control in its forests, massive chunks of land vaporized. Here and there a mushroom cloud marked the spot where a city once stood, scorched to the earth to deny it to the enemy. The two frigates stared in horror; this was the Covenant all over again.

"Arcadia, July 13th, 2570. Population; zero." The words stunned the girls; five days? Not even the Covenant could have managed that!

Lasky hesitated, a barely noticeable pause, then motioned once more. A marker tagged a small volume of space, which the display then focused in on. There hung a collection of vessels, alien to the sight. Their hulls made of twisting geometric shapes, ethereal blue-purple lights strung out along their lengths. The humans in the room narrowed their eyes and gritted their teeth; even to them, with minds acclimated to the mind-bending geometries, it still grated against their very beings to look upon the ships, even just as images in a projection.

For Dawn and In Amber Clad, their reactions were completely different. Before, only seeing those ships in battle and from long distance, they could ignore the effects but now, sitting comfortably and being up close and personal, it was… pronounced, to say the least.

In Amber Clad promptly curled her knees up to her chest, ducked her head down, wrapped her arms around her legs and began rocking back and forth. Soft whimpering noises could be heard issuing from the fright ball she'd become.

For Dawn, the experience was completely different. She collapsed in her chair, slipping to the ground, grasping her side. Marines rushed to her side as she screamed in agony, her side feeling like it was on fire and being torn apart at the same time.

Garcia and Hikowa jumped to their feet, both racing to the girl nearest them. "Shut it down! Shut the damn thing off!" Lasky, momentarily stunned, shook off the shock and lunged for the tablet. He quite nearly punched the datapad in his rush to turn off the projection.

The holograph blinked off, but the damage was done. Hikowa tried gently to coax In Amber Clad into uncurling, but to no avail. She was now shivering all over, and Hikowa managed to catch a few of words being muttered. "Flood… Gravemind…"

Dawn no longer screamed, but she remained sprawled on the floor, eyes locked straight ahead on something only she could see. It took three marines to pry her white knuckled grip off her side.

"What the hell?!" Lasky was now crouching beside Dawn, trying to keep her from thrashing about while the marines looked her over. "What the hell happened?!"

"I've no fucking idea, sir! Those Abyssals came on screen and they just completely lost their shit!" The marines had given up trying to hold her down and were breaking out the sedatives. A corpsman tapped a hypodermic to eliminate bubbles and jabbed it into a vein. The polypseudomorphine made its way through her bloodstream and her motions slowly died down.

"Jesus! What the fuck?!" A marine used her combat knife to slice away the clothing around her side, revealing-

-nothing. Pale, unbroken skin was the only thing the gathered personnel saw. The only scars were far away from where Dawn had gripped her side, indicating where her DC crews had managed to heal her battle damage.

"What the actual?" The marine shot a look at her comrade, who was staring in surprise as well. "You see this too, Yamada?"

"Either I do, or this is all one, big, collective hallucination. I'm pretty sure I didn't dose, so I guess I'm seeing it too." He poked his head above the table, to where Hikowa was still trying to get Amber uncurled. "Hey, doc, what's up over there?"

"What's up is she's gone goddamn catatonic on me. I can't snap her out of it, she's going on about the Flood or something? I don't know, it doesn't make any sense to me!"

"Sir, orders?" Lasky realized everyone in the room was looking at him, waiting to be told what to do. And he didn't have any ideas.

"I want a medical opinion." The corpsmen in the room glanced at each other. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were gathered in a corner, talking in hushed voices. Lasky blinked; how had they gotten over there so fast?

After a few moments a ripple of nods went through the group and they turned around. "Medical opinion says stick them in isolation and monitor them. Quarantine everyone who's in this room." A chorus of complaints from non-medical personnel went up. "You think we're doing this for shits and giggles? That includes us. We're not risking spreading whatever they might have."

Lasky sighed and stood up. "Very well. Are there any sealable rooms in this base, aside from this bunker?" The marines looked at each other nervously, everyone waiting for someone else to answer the admiral's question.

"Um… I think there's an isolation wings in the infirmary, but they're not big enough for all of us." The corpsman paused, as if about to say something especially painful. "We're going to have to stay in here."

It took a moment for that to register. Stay in here. In the bunker. With more than twenty other people. For an indefinite amount of time.

"I call dibs on the power outlet."

* * *

/JOHNSTON AFB/

/SUBSYSTEM 18.B.4/

/ISOLATION MONITORING: ON/

"Guh… what… what happened?"

Dawn's eyes slowly blinked open. They immediately slammed shut again, the harsh white light burning her retinas.

"Too bright! Fuck!" She clasped her hands to her head, a headache of truly epic proportions threatening. She took deep breaths, counted to 10 and back, and the pounding slowly went away.

"Ah, that's better." She popped open one eyelid and, when that didn't induce complete and utter agony, opened the other. Her surroundings swam into focus; four white walls, LED lights, two chairs, and the prone form of In Amber Clad.

"Hey!" She jumped up and scrambled over to the unconscious frigate, gathering her up in her arms. "Hey, wakie wakie."

Amber's eyes fluttered open, and she let out a massive yawn. "So warm…" Her eyes slid closed again and she snuggled deeper into Dawn's arms.

…

Her eyes shot open.

"Wagh!" She literally jumped away from Dawn, scooting against the wall, face beet red. On Dawn's part, she sat there, frozen, arms still held in front of her and cheeks doing their best impression of a tomato.

Awkward silence reigned for several seconds, the two frigates staring at each other from across the room. No one dared to move a muscle. Finally, Dawn, her arms finally obeying commands again, lifted her hand in an awkward wave.

"Hey there?"

Amber flinched as if struck, the words taking by her surprise. Slowly, as she realized Dawn meant no harm, she relaxed, returning the wave along with a small, uncertain smile.

"Hey." The two fell silent again, each waiting for the other to make the first move. A couple of minutes passed like this before Dawn couldn't take it any longer.

"So… you're In Amber Clad? The In Amber Clad? You really chased Regret, all by yourself? And then, you discovered Delta Halo, and killed the Prophet?"

Amber quirked an eyebrow. "Well, not really, but I guess…?" Dawn squealed, eyes suddenly sparkling with admiration.

"I can't believe it! You're a legend among frigates! I can't believe I'm finally getting to meet you!" She almost glomped onto Amber a second time, but held back upon seeing the nervous, almost frightened look on her face. "Wh-what's wrong?" she said, a worried look now occupying her face.

Amber had to crack a small, sad smile at the sincerity of her expression. "Sorry, I just don't really like being touched. Not after the Flood…" Dawn blinked, trying to remember where she had heard that name. She swore it sounded familiar, maybe something her crew… her eyes widened.

"Oh… oh, my God. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize, I'm really, really sorry, please forgive me, I didn't know, please forgive me!..." Amber had to laugh at how cutely sincere the apology was. Who couldn't believe those puppy dog eyes, now brimming with tears?

"Ah, don't worry, you didn't know. Just… don't cough on me or anything, okay?" Seeing Dawn giving an extremely enthusiastic nod, she smiled again in order to put the girl at ease. "Well then, do you know how we ended up here?"

Dawn shook her head. "I just remember seeing those Abyssals Admiral Lasky showed us and then…"

"What?" Amber said, head tilted to the side.

"... I was back, back at the Ark. I was trying to get Chief and the Arbiter back to Earth, but we weren't fast enough, and the portal closed, and then it was just… pain, like I was being cut in half." She was staring at nothing now, trying not to let the memories of that pain resurface.

She had no idea what this "Ark" thing was or who this "Arbiter" was, but from the sound of it Dawn had gone through an incomplete slipspace transit. She was literally cut in half when a slipspace portal closed on her. "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have had to go through that."

Dawn shook her head violently and pressed a palm against her forehead, firmly shoving the memories back into the dark corner they'd come from. "It's all in the past now, I'm okay." She looked up at Amber. "Did… did you see anything?"

Her expression darkened, becoming guarded and distant. "Nothing important. Just… something I'd rather not talk about."

At that moment, a screen on the wall neither of them had noticed blinked to life, projecting a hologram into the middle of the room.

"What the-?!"

"Ahem." The projection coalesced into the form of Admiral Lasky, standing with his hands behind his back. "Glad to see you two are finally awake."

"Sir!" They tripped over themselves to stand and salute.

"At ease, at ease. It's not really the time for saluting, not after I've been sitting in this room for the better part of a day." The girls glanced at each other; they'd been out that long?

"Sir! On behalf of both of us, I apologize for the trouble we've caused. It won't happen again!" Amber said, hands behind back and face set in stone.

"It's alright. I'm more worried about you two. Do you know what happened?"

Silence reigned once again as Dawn and Amber looked at each other nervously, neither really having any idea. "Uh…"

"You don't know?" Lasky's expression took on a familiar, exasperated, resigned form. It was quickly becoming the norm for him nowadays. Though he looked ready to punch something, he wiped the expression off his face and gestured to someone offscreen. "Luckily for you, our resident HM1 has managed to come up with something. Ms. Hikowa?"

"Yes, Admiral." The sound of someone clearing their throat came through the transmission. "Well, there have been reports that UNSC deep recon teams experienced traumatic flashbacks when in close proximity to Abyssal forces. And medical personnel have reported unaccustomed soldiers experiencing flashbacks when exposed to images of the Abyssals. Though I'm not sure what could have caused such a strong reaction in those two…"

"Consensus is to keep you away from close contact or on reaction suppression meds until you have more experience." Lasky pulled up a datapad and opened something up. "With my suddenly copious free time, I've been looking at the scans we did. Some weird physiology you've got going on there. That begs the next question, which I would have actually asked earlier: what are you?"

"Um, sir, I think we've introduced ourselves already-"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean, what are you? Species? Classification? Life form?"

That brought Dawn up short. She'd honestly never considered that, she just kind of… was. Existential questions like those weren't exactly high on her 'to contemplate' list.

"Uh… I…"

"If I may, I think I can actually do this one."

Lasky blinked surprise. Actually getting an answer for once was a new one. "By all means."

"Ahem." Amber cleared her throat. "The answer is actually fairly straightforward, which I'm guessing'll make you happy."

"You know how sailors say they know their ships? Like they understand their ships, and feel like it understands them? Or maybe, you've heard how in certain situations, ships can do things that should be impossible for them, like tank that one hit that should have destroyed them or squeeze that little extra bit of juice out of the reactor?"

Unseen but nevertheless overheard by the girls, on Lasky's end of the conversation, every single sailor in the room agreed with Amber's statement.

"She's right."

"Yeah, now that you mention it."

"Like that one time, over Scion!"

She nodded in acknowledgement. "You've also heard how people often say each ship has a different _feel_ to it? How often the crew of each ship has their own little rituals and what not that they think makes everything work better?"

"Hell yeah."

"Never walk backwards into the reactor room."

"Don't ever leave your gun barrel-down."

"The mug handle points left, not right."

"Exactly. And you know how the older crew will refer to the 'soul' of the ship? And how some say if you take care of the ship, it'll take care of you?" Seeing Lasky nod, she gestured to herself and Dawn. "Well, they were on to something. Nice to meet you. I'm the In Amber Clad. And I guess that makes you…"

"Forward Unto Dawn, as I've said before. And for the record, I prefer the handle pointing to the right."

Lasky blinked. _Just when I think I've got an answer that makes sense._ "Really."

"I can tell you exactly at what time Commander Keyes turned in every night. I can tell you which magazines the marines subscribed to. Heck, I remember Private Locklear had that one page he kept going back to, and that he never showed anyone el-"

"Right. Right." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna need a drink. Or two. Or the whole bottle. Fuck it, I'll buy the bar."

"Sorry?"

"No, no, it's fine. It's just, I thought after dealing with the Abyssals, the Forerunners, and everything in between, I'd finally be able to deal with something I understood." He turned away for a moment, rubbing his temples. "Okay. I'm just going to go with that, because I don't have anything better. That explanation makes as much sense as anything else."

"... Thanks? I guess?"

"Sure." He finished his mini-breakdown and turned back around, looking much more composed. "Well, enough of that. I'll be frank, so I hope I don't come across as rude here. We need more of you."

The two frigates looked down at themselves, then at each other, then at Lasky.

"Oh, no, not like that! I mean, we need more of you…" He grimaced. "You spirits. Here. Helping us."

"Oh. So you need to know how to summon more of us?"

"Well, if you're going to put it like that…"

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Well, I thought it might seem ungrateful."

Dawn stepped back, making space as Amber started pacing the room. "Okay, to start, think of the spirit as sleeping. You've got to awaken it somehow. How you do it is up to you."

"Awaken, you say?"

"Okay, you've awakened the spirit. Next, you need to give it something to latch onto. Something familiar. If you've got relics for the specific spirit, say a ship's plaque or something similar, that would be best, but something like a familiar song would work as well."

"Check that. Having a hard time with it, but check that."

"You need resources, something for the spirit to build a body with in this world. Titanium, mainly, but tungsten and deuterium as well."

"Resources, huh? I think we can do all that."

"Yes. But, there's one more thing."

"Of course there is."

"Right." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Finally, and this might be the difficult part, you need a lot of people."

Silence, as Lasky looked at her strangely. "A lot of people? This is already going to take some serious manpower, I don't think we need to add more onto that."

"No, you don't understand me. When I say a lot, I mean fill the room, standing space only, spill into the corridors a lot. Think of it this way. We - us ships, I mean - died serving a species of billions; you aren't going to get us to come back with a few dozen people. You need hundreds, at least. Sort of like… just letting them know that, no shit, for real, you need them. It's not enough just for a couple of officers to need them. They need to know humanity needs them."

Lasky was quiet for a while, probably mulling it over in his head. "Alright. Thank you for all your help. I'll have you out of isolation shortly. If this works… well, we'll just have to see." He saluted, then cut the transmission.

Back in the still-sealed bunker, Lasky slumped with exhaustion as the hologram blinked off. Everyone in the room looked at him expectantly, waiting.

He got the attention of the corpsmen gathered in the corner, watching a gravball game. "In your opinion, is there anything to be worried about if we release them from isolation?"

"No sir. What happened appears to be purely psychological. We should be alright."

"Very well. You heard the girls. I want those resources found, and I wanted them found yesterday!"

"Yes sir!" The bunker doors unsealed with a hiss and everyone ran out, the marines rubbing their hands together eagerly at the thought of… requisitioning the needed materials. Lasky caught Garcia before he left.

"Captain, do you know if there are any personnel on this base who play instruments?"

Garcia thought back to his interactions with the marines embarked on his ship. "Well, I do know there are a couple electric guitar players in 21st Company. And a few drummers. Maybe a few string players as well. Why?"

Lasky allowed a devious grin to slide onto his face, causing a shiver to run down the officer's spine. "Oh, just a little idea that came into my mind…"

* * *

"I like how you explained all that."

"Ahaha, thanks, I'm sure you could've done it better."

"Me? I would've said sparkly magic anime spirit shipgirl bullshit, if I didn't bite my tongue in the process."

A light above door flashed, followed by the sound of an airlock equalizing. Two HAZOP suited marines stepped in, rifles at the ready. "Up you come now. Admiral Lasky wants you on hand in case anything goes wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"He's going to try out the process you gave him."

"Wait, now?!"

"Yes. Why do you think he was asking?"

"Well- I- you can't just decide to do it! Gathering the materials alone-"

"There's plenty of spare scrap lying around. Now, are you coming along or not?"

Amber struggled with that, her mind refusing to accept that an Admiral would just make it up as he went along like that. Eventually, though, she gave in. "Alright. Fine. Lead the way."

Dawn piped up behind her. "Can we get our equipment back?"

"It's on a shuttle. Hurry up. Perihelion Station is coming overhead in an hour and we need to catch it."

* * *

/PERIHELION ORBITAL YARD/

/INTERNAL MONITORING SYSTEMS - OFF/

/HANGAR 14-A - SEALED/

"You're sure it's all set up correctly?"

"I've never actually done this, remember? I'm just going off what that girl told me to do."

"Good enough. We're just waiting on our resident spirits."

Inside one of the hangar bays of the Perihelion Orbital Shipyard, a crowd of assorted UNSC personnel filled the room to maximum capacity, and then some. A large circle had been cleared near the massive hangar bay doors, and in front of it sat a complex setup of drums, amplifiers, subwoofers, cables, and music stands. Within the circle were piled fuel tanks, scrap titanium, and tungsten. Every piece of metal that Lasky could get his hands on was in the room. Several squads of ODSTs and the Master Chief were on hand to provide security.

It had been a logistical nightmare to requisition everything, but the marines were used to working slightly outside the system. Lasky was willing to overlook a few minor transgressions, so long as it got done.

Whispers and mutters filled the air as the soldiers and sailors, pulled from various assignments just to fill this room, voiced their discontent with the situation. The general mood was one of hope severely tempered by skepticism. They didn't know the full details, to them it was just another long shot project by the brass, a waste of time and resources. But, they had orders, and they would be obeyed.

Their collective gaze turned to the entrance as it whooshed open. In marched Dawn and Amber, escorted by a squad of marines, wearing their equipment and looking extremely self conscious. Each could feel hundreds of eyes following them as they made their way towards the circle, each footstep an echoing clunk from the thousands of tons of equipment they carried.

They finally pushed their way through to Admiral Lasky. There, they came to attention. He nodded in return. "Everything in here look good to you?"

"As far as I can tell."

"Okay. Let's do this people!" At the sound of his voice, the crowd turned inward to face the circle. Several marines and sailors stepped up out of the crowd and picked up the instruments, tuning them and performing final checks.

One brushed her fingers over her electric guitar, smiling as she felt the familiar strings. She shot a look at the drummers, who nodded at the violin players, who got the attention of the choir, who gestured to the technicians, who gave the guitarist a thumbs up.

"Okay… a one, a two, a one two three go!"

The drummers started, a resonating cymbal clash. Then came the choir, an ethereal series of tones. Finally, the guitarist, counting off in her head, strummed a single note. The tone bounced off the walls, and everyone who heard it knew what was coming next. The de facto anthem of the UNSC. A song every soldier, sailor, marine and airman knew.

The Mjolnir Mix began in earnest, the violinists working their bows, drummers pounding out a beat, choir chanting, and over it all the sound of the guitar.

As the song filled the room, everyone focused on a single spot in the center of the circle. With the beat thumping in their chests, they began to believe that maybe, just maybe, something could come out of this.

* * *

 _It was dark._

 _That was her first thought. It was dark._

 _She realized what a strange thought for her that was. Dark was not a concept a ship, especially one with a suite of sensors capable of sampling the entirety of the electromagnetic spectrum, whose instruments could pick up the smallest distortions in subspace, was used to._

/SYSTEMS BOOT/

 _At the first, the music was soft, barely noticeable._

/OS 2/

 _Then, as it became louder, she started to remember. Within her hull, computers blinked on, software dormant for decades beginning their boot processes._

/REACTOR… FUNCTIONAL/

 _The reactor, hungry after so many years, embraced the raw deuterium with a passion._

 _She remembered the early days, before the others had arrived, holding the line, sometimes with a fleet, sometimes all by herself._

/WEAPONS… FUNCTIONAL/

 _The capacitors began to charge as missile silos popped open along her flank. She remembered how they'd laughed at her, calling her outdated and obsolete even as they cried for her aid._

/PROPULSION… FUNCTIONAL/

 _Thrusters began to glow as power was restored, waiting to once again propel her through the void. She'd been refitted, given the newest weapons and technology, even as the fleet burned. But even with those, she hadn't accomplished her mission. She'd died an ignoble death, stranded like a fucking beached whale on the surface of Alpha Halo, all those resources wasted on her._

/SLIPSPACE… FUNCTIONAL/

 _The drive spun up, ready to enter a realm where the laws of physics did not apply. She'd thought her life was over, gone in a flash. She hadn't performed her duty, hadn't protected humanity, hadn't even protected her crew. Her only legacy was dust and echoes, drifting silently through the abyss._

/ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL/

 _So why were they calling her back? Why did they need her? Why not one of the Marathons, or even a carrier? Someone who could actually fight worth a damn?_

/ALL CHECKS COMPLETE/

 _But they were. They still wanted her, though she couldn't fathom why in hell they would. Maybe… just maybe, she could finally redeem herself._

/C-709 UNSC PILLAR OF AUTUMN, BOOT COMPLETE/

"Alright. Let's try not to lose the MAC this time, hm~?"

* * *

The music died away. All present craned their necks forward, trying to see if there was any change. There was none.

"Fucking knew it."

"Waste of time."

"Why the hell I am I here?"

"What the fuck did I expect in the first fuckin' place?"

Lasky turned to stare at the two frigates, whispering between themselves. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No, as far as I can tell. Everything should be right, I don't know why…"

The angry muttering got louder around them as people started to push their way towards the exit. Dawn reached out helplessly, trying to get them to stay. "W-wait, I'm sure if we just wait a minute…"

"Yeah? Just a minute? What the hell you think's gonna happen, something's just gonna pop out of nowhere?"

As if on cue, the lights flickered in unison, briefly plunging the room into complete darkness. When the lights came back on, the pile of metal and fuel was gone, dissolved into thin air.

Before anybody could even question it, a screeching metallic noise, a halfway cross between a hammer blow and tearing metal reverberated throughout the room. In the middle of the cleared area, where the materials used to be, the air cracked.

Lousy ass description, to be sure, but that was the only way anybody could describe it. A crack in the air, about seven feet in height. As they watched, a dull pounding sound came from it, followed by the crack getting larger and larger. Finally, with a resounding crash, a piece shattered, followed by a fist punching through.

Throughout the hangar, clicking noises echoed as safeties were unlocked and bolts cocked back. Chief drew his assault rifle from its resting place on his back, unsafeing it and holding it at the ready.

The pounding got louder and more frequent, more pieces breaking and dissolving. A leg kicked through, followed by another fist breaking through whatever barrier was in its way. Now through the rift, the two hands grabbed onto the widening breach and pulled it apart.

With a final splintering sound, the gap was torn asunder, revealing a swirling purple-blackness that managed to glow brilliantly yet drink in light at the same time. From it, a figure stepped forth.

Nobody moved as the figure, still silhouetted against the light pouring from the rift, seemed to take in its surroundings. Behind it, the rift shrank, slowly at first, then faster until it snapped closed, the light abruptly cut off. No longer blinded, the assembled personnel could finally see what had come through. A girl, in her mid-20s, wearing a UNSC marine BDU. Three bulky cylinders were strapped to her back. What looked like the product of a drunken three way between a rail gun, a sniper rifle and a battery array nearly as tall as she was laid attached to her right shoulder and both of her arms were festooned with missiles. A complex array of miniaturized sensor arrays and computers covered the right side of her helmet.

Chief casually lifted his assault rifle, drawing a bead on the girl with the ODSTs following suit. Lasky found his voice. "Identify yourself."

She broke into a smile, striking a pose with hand on hip. "C-709 UNSC Pillar of Autumn, reporting for duty! It's good to be back, hm~?"


	9. Chapter 9

/REACH ORBITAL CONTROL/

/MONITORING STATION E901

/WARNING! UNSCHEDULED SLIPSPACE TRANSIT/

/LOG: 1-8-2585/

The cooks looked on in abject horror as Autumn devoured plate after plate of food. Quite a traffic jam was developing as marines gathered to watch her. Dawn and Amber sat across the table from her, their own meals quite forgotten.

"H-how much more is she going to eat?"

"I don't know! That was the last of the food!"

"Mmmf- I'm stuffed! Thank you! I see the cooking's improved quite a bit, hm~?" Stony silence greeted her remark. "Is there a problem?"

"You just ate up all of the station's entire food supply. Do you know how much food that is?" Autumn thought about that for a bit.

She replied with a shrug, "Well, what can I say? The food was good, and when you're hungry you gotta eat, hm~?" Nobody could find a reply to that.

A tickle in the back of his mind reminded Lasky of something. Prying his eyes away from the veritable mountain of trays on the table and his mind away from the credits it'd take to replenish, he excused himself and exited the room. He walked down the hallway for some privacy, setting up a link with Roland.

"Roland, status report?"

A pause, then the AI's voice filtered back to him, sounding mildly surprised. "Nothing, really. I just finished pinging all the patrols, I'm waiting for responses from a few monitoring satel-" His voice stopped abruptly, leaving only the slight hiss of static.

"Roland? Roland, report!"

"One minute sir… what the… no, this can't be right… oh, Jesus H. Christ on fucking whole wheat bread with swiss cheese and turkey. Admiral… UNSC _New Alexandria_ just jumped back in."

Lasky, still walking, tried to recall the name. "Oh, right, the _Alexandria_. I guess she's done with her repairs, then?"

"Sir, she wasn't due back for another three days. And… look at this." A file notification popped up in his CNI. Accepting it, an image was projected directly into his vision.

"What in the…" The UNSC _New Alexandria_ was even more damaged than when it had left Reach. Entire sections of the ship were just gone, Lasky could see a jagged tear where the front 200 meters or so had been cleaved off. Two of the thruster cones were dead and cold, two more sputtering and glowing only faintly. Fires bloomed from breaches in the hull, feeding off the internal atmosphere as the ship slowly rolled, shedding debris. The ship's nameplate was scorched beyond recognition, only the UNSC portion showing.

"Sir, there's a transmission from a crewman. Patching it through now." The image of the ship was gone, replaced by a video. It showed a bridge nearly in ruins, most of the consoles dark and cables hanging from the roof. They sparked intermittently, briefly illuminating the bodies lying on the floor. Fires burned uncontrolled, supplementing the meager light provided by the remaining emergency lamps.

The video went out of focus for a moment before becoming clear again. From beneath the camera's field of view an officer, looking worse for the wear, stood up.

"Finally… never thought I'd get that working… This is Lieutenant JG Gene Schukowski. It's… 0900 Hours. I- I'm- as far as I know, I'm the highest ranking officer onboard the _New Alexandria_. The capt-Fuck!-captain's dead, I can't contact anybody else, I- oh, God. It's Earth. They hit Earth." The man paused for a moment, breathing deeply and holding a hand to a bloody wound in his side. He looked to be on the verge of tears and/or passing out. "They- they slipped past the sensor nets. Ceres, Ganymede, they were gone before- before we even knew they were there. We only realized when they started dropping rocks on Mars."

"They made it past the Luna perimeter before our sensors saw them. Armstrong City, Crisium… they bombarded them. Cracked the crust and v-vented the entire place. We could see the… the bodies…"

"We were docked with Aldrin station. I-we-we only got away because Aldrin took a nuke. It broke the docking clamps. We'd barely fired up our engines when we got cut apart. They just… sheared off the entire bow. We ran, but we took damage along the way. The captain… his last order was to jump. Jump for Reach and let you know."

"We're in slip now. It'll be… twelve hours to Reach. I think. I-I don't think I'll make it. The door's been sealed shut- energy blast penetrated the citadel. Agh… just, make it count, okay? Don't let… don't let them get Earth. Please…"

The video ended, leaving Lasky standing in stunned silence. _So that's why FLEETCOM wasn't replying to my report._ If the Abyssals were at Earth, they'd be there in force. Even the Home Fleet, thousands of ships strong, wouldn't slow them down for long.

Before he knew it, he'd turned around, first walking, then running back to the mess hall. When he got there, Autumn's trays were gone and she, the other girls, and a few marines and sailors were laughing and swapping war stories.

"Hey, Admiral! Come join us! Bet you've got some stories of your own, hm~?"

"No time. The fleet's going on full alert. All of you, get back to your stations. You three, with me."

The girls, sensing the change in mood, stood up immediately. Their rumour-buddies jumped up as well, and General Quarters began to sound.

Seeing they were up, Lasky motioned to them and ran back down the hallway, three warships hot on his heels. "Roland, what's the nearest ship?"

" _Hope Springs Eternal_ is 500 klicks distant, its orbit matches."

"Got it. Let Captain Khalid know he's about to have visitors." The girls finally caught up with him, footsteps clanging on the metal deck.

"Admiral! What's happening?!"

"We're going to Hangar A. Once there, you will intercept and board the _Eternal_. Further instructions will be issued once you're aboard!"

"Wait, why? What's going on? What happened?!"

"Earth's been attacked." He kept running, but stopped when he realized they were no longer following him. "What's the matter with you? Keep moving!"

"Earth? They hit Earth?"

"Yes! The Home Fleet's hard pressed. I'm scrambling everything I can to help out, and that includes you. Let's-" He hadn't finished speaking when they blew past him, appearing as blurs due to their speed. "-go."

Soon they were strung out, frigates in front, cruiser in the middle, Lasky bringing up the rear. Powered by the fusion reactors on their backs, they could sprint faster than he could ever hope to.

He skidded to a stop outside Hangar A. "Back here! You missed it!" They came running back down the corridor and past him into the hangar.

"Hey! What're you doing in here?! You don't have clearance!"

"They're with me, sailor." The man spun on his heel and saluted, the rest of the sailors in the hangar following suit.

"Admiral Lasky, sir!"

"Open the doors." He rushed to comply, working the controls that would open the enormous bay doors. Lasky walked over to where the three ships were busy checking over their equipment. Their thrusters flared with agitation, and- was that a fucking _fairy_ standing on Autumn's gun?

He grabbed three spare helmets from where they sat on the floor and tore out their IFF tags. He tossed them over to the girls. "These'll keep _Eternal_ 's point defenses from swatting you out of the sky." They nodded, then, as one, lept through the atmosphere containment field, past the open bay doors and into the void. There they ignited their thrusters, accelerating until they were but specks against the blackness. Then they were gone.

Lasky watched them go, then turned and grabbed a passing pilot. "Is your ship nearby?"

"Yes sir, I have a Pelican warmed up and ready to go."

"Good. Get me over to the _Infinity_ , ASAP."

* * *

/UNSC _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ /

/PALISADE POINT DEFENSE NETWORK/

/IFF CHALLENGE: SENT/

/WAITING FOR IFF RESPONSE.../

/IFF RESPONSE: RECEIVED - FRIENDLY/

"Clear the deck!" Blue jerseyed crewmen rushed to and fro, pushing aside ships and equipment to make room.

"Where does the admiral get off, pulling this on us?! I mean, seriously, fucking girls?! Who are actually spirits?!"

"Don't question it, just work! They're 200 klicks and inbound, get that fighter out of here!" The Broadsword was moved into position on the elevator, which rapidly descended to bring it down to the storage bay. The deck closed overhead, two panels sliding into place to create temporary flooring over the elevator well.

"100 klicks, we have visual contact. Landing lights on!" Several rows of spotlights flicked on, illuminating landing paths for the inbound shipgirls. The crew who found themselves standing on the paths scrambled out of the way to avoid being railroaded. Crash barriers also activated, shimmering fields of energy that would stop an inbound craft from losing control and slamming into the back wall.

"15 klicks! Visual approach started, all personnel clear the flight deck! Fire suppression and DC on standby, security to the hangar!" From the control booth overlooking the hangar, the crew could see three small dots steadily growing larger. The controllers sweated as the readouts scrolled in front of them. Ten kilometers… five kilometers…they weren't decelerating! Two kilometers…thank goodness, they were slowing…500 meters…

Three heavy _thunk_ s sounded from the deck as the girls made touchdown. Dawn undershot, wiping out a couple of landing lights as she landed just short of the actual landing path. Sparks flew as they skidded to a stop, thrusters straining to bleed off their inertia. Three craters marked where they had first hit the floor, the deck having given way under their thousand-ton bulks. Behind them, the lights turned off.

When they slid to a stop, all was silent for a moment. Then, along the hangar walls, doors slid open and personnel rushed back in. They hurriedly took down the barriers and cleaned up the debris from the landing. Marines from shipboard security surrounded the three, escorting them off the flight deck. Behind them, other crewmembers slowly filtered back in. A couple of them followed the marines with their eyes, wondering just what was happening. They shook it off quickly, and the hangar quickly resumed normal ops.

The marines moved quickly, getting the girls over to an unused hangar. On the way they passed a certain flamethrower-wielding duo.

"Hey, wasn't that-"

"Yeah, and a couple others!"

"Think we should follow them?"

"... Nah."

Inside the hangar, the one Dawn's equipment had been stored in, the two Goliaths stood idle. Their drivers lounged around, playing cards with their compatriots. A group of marines gathered in the corner, watching a grifball tournament and trading scuttlebutt.

"Look alive, guys. Get these three secured. The admiral's gonna get on the horn soon." The marines jumped into action. Two of them climbed into the Goliaths, powering them up and arming the weapons. The others put on helmets and grabbed weapons, taking positions to cover the ships.

Six walked forward, taking over escort duties from the others. Not that there was much to do; in fact, they mostly just stood around awkwardly, waiting for Lasky's announcement.

The tense, nervous postures of the girls told them something big was up. One of the marines screwed up his nerve to ask. "Um… you wouldn't happen to know what's happening, would you?"

"They didn't tell you? It's-" At that moment Lasky's voice came over the speakers, cutting Dawn off.

"Attention, all personnel. As you may have figured out, something very big has happened. There's no easy way to tell you this. Earth has been attacked."

The effect was immediate. A few of the marines gasped, some dropped their weapons in shock. Before any more reactions could take place, Lasky went on.

"At 0750 yesterday Sol time, Abyssals slipped through the sensor nets. We don't know much, but reports indicate they've hit Ceres, Ganymede, Mars, and Luna. From what we know, they are currently engaged with the Home Fleet." Several marines sat down suddenly and heavily; they were the ones who hailed from those colonies. To hear that their homes had been attacked, probably destroyed…

"As of now, it has fourteen hours since the Abyssals attacked. As TERRA Contingency dictates, I am scrambling all available units to reinforce the Home Fleet. Orders to specific units will come shortly."

"One last thing. As you probably know, a… girl appeared a few days ago and helped us fight off the Abyssals. What you may not know is that two more of them are now on our side. A full explanation will be given to all of you once it is appropriate, but I expect you treat them with the utmost respect, as you would any other soldier, sailor, marine or airman. They are here to help."

"Good luck and godspeed. Vice Admiral Lasky, out."

Amber became aware of the many eyes now staring at her. In order to ward off her growing self-consciousness, she busied herself with checking over her equipment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dawn doing the same.

Autumn walked among the marines, talking quietly with those affected most by the news. She sat down beside a marine, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he softly wept. She stayed there for a moment, not saying anything, just letting the man know that someone was with him.

For a moment, she glanced back at the frigates. As resident cruiser, she felt responsible for their safety. She watched them with a critical eye, critiquing the way they prepared their gear. _Dawn's crew isn't properly engaging the missile locks. I'll talk to her later._

A tremble passing through the ship's hull let her know that the _Eternal_ was moving. Autumn glanced around at the other soldiers in the hangar. She saw a range of emotions on their faces. Furious, anguished, determined, blank, they all described the expressions they wore. Where there had been card games and grifball there were now weapons checks and equipment tunings. The marines were out for blood.

And come hell or high water, they would get it. Autumn would make sure of that.

* * *

"CarDiv 1, CruDivs 2, 3, 4, 5, BattDivs 7 and 10, DesDivs 9, 21, 11, 45, 23, 18, and associated frigate groups are on the move. Awaiting your command to jump, sir."

Lasky nodded in response. He leaned on the holotable in the center of the bridge, eyes closed, listening to the bustle of the crew around him. "One second, lieutenant."

He felt the vibrations of the _Infinity_ 's hull, every single one communicating the power within the ship, just waiting to be unleashed. He thought about what that girl had said, how the soul of the ship was not just a metaphor, but a reality. He thought about all those times the _Infinity_ had come through for the crew, even when all had seemed lost.

 _It does make one wonder. What do_ you _think of all this? What do you think of me?_

As if in response to his thoughts, the vibrations got just a little stronger. The table felt just a little warmer beneath his hands. _Fair enough_. He opened his eyes.

"All units, jump."

* * *

/EARTH ORBITAL CONTROL/

/MONITORING STATION G56/

/WARNING! UNSCHEDULED SLIPSPACE TRANSIT/

/LOG: 1-8-2585/

"All units, fall back! Repeat, we are abandoning Luna! Fall back!"

It was the decisive battle, and humanity was loosing. Badly.

The Home Fleet retreated from the Lunar perimeter. In just 14 hours the Abyssals had pushed the largest, most formidable collection of ships ever assembled by humans to the brink. In its wake, out of 4000 ships, over 2000 of all shapes and sizes floated dead. More than half of the Home Fleet's effective combat power, wiped out in an instant.

Behind them came the Abyssals, a fleet five hundred strong, the largest group ever beheld by human eyes. Missiles and energy beams chased the humans, scoring hits, disabling ships and, in the case of the smaller frigates and destroyers, blowing them apart.

"All ODPs, concentrate fire on the starboard flank! Take the heat off the carriers!" The orbital defense platforms aimed and fired as one, roaring multi-gigaton fury at the aliens. Their shells flew through the gaps in the human formation, followed soon after by salvo after salvo from the regrouped warships. Slugs at c fractional, gigaton level antimatter catalyzed nukes, energy projectors, particle beams, high energy lasers, and a flood of PDC rounds slammed into the Abyssals in a tidal wave of fire and ordnance. Drones sacrificed themselves en masse to deliver their payloads. Manned fighters weaved their way through flak fields to destroy and divert fire from enemy weapon emplacements. Several, power plants critical and in flames, went on kamikaze runs.

When the light faded and the dust cleared, the enemy line was unharmed. The Abyssal battleships had maneuvered to the front, tanking the human shots. They now pushed through, shields sparking from the energies they'd just deflected.

And into a cloud of mines laid by the retreating UNSC ships. Antimatter warheads detonated one after another, e=mc2 coming into lethal effect. Each mine held one kilogram of antimatter, produced under the highest security in facilities scattered throughout Oort Cloud. Multi-megaton energy bursts in the middle of their formation caught the Abyssals unaware, gamma ray bursts wiping out sensor suites and outright disintegrating several frigates. EMP-hardened UNSC sensors struggled to survive the onslaught of radiation.

Once their displays had stopped fizzling, tactical officers across the fleet could see the mines had been effectively useless. Once again, the heavier Abyssal ships had completely shrugged off any damage with a shit and a giggle. The engagement range was now a mere 290,000 kilometers, a light second, short enough for even secondary batteries to get in on the action. And get in they did, railguns opening up in staccato volleys that filled the space between the two fleets with tungsten.

And, even with the staggering amount of ordnance being used, even with space flooded by radiation, even with the fury of a thousand suns now exploding among the aliens, they pushed forward. The fleet was breaking. One by one, ships were destroyed, more holes in the already ragged line.

Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood steadied himself on a terminal as Singapore Station rocked from another near miss. In return, the ODP flung one more shell into the void, 4000 tons of tungsten on a one way trip at 0.06c with a first class ticket to Abyssal-ville.

"Sir! All units are reporting low munitions! We're almost out of nukes, and the frigates' MAC stocks are depleted!"

"All frigates are to keep firing their remaining ordnance! The line cannot break! There is nowhere left to fall back to!" As the officer transmitted Hood's command, he turned back to the overall display. In the past twenty seconds, he'd lost another cruiser division and five destroyer divisions. Ironically, because of how low priority they were, the frigates had been left almost untouched.

"Status on enemy forces!"

"Enemy forces are at 80 percent strength! Sir, battleship divisions are requesting NOVA authorization!"

"Denied! We're too close to Earth!" Each battleship held one NOVA warhead in its stocks, ready to be used in only the most dire situations. Throughout human space, cracked moons and burned planets marked where a NOVA was used to scorch the earth.

"Sir, we're being flanked! Abyssal ships, starboard flank!" Hood stared at the display; the damned aliens were coming around the exposed flank, hitting them where they were weakest.

"Divert BattDivs 5 and 9 to support them!" He shouted the orders, knowing they were most likely too late. As he watched, beams of light reached out from the alien ships to rip apart the lightly armored ships. They needed a miracle at this point.

"Sir! Slipspace ruptures, lots of 'em, off the starboard flank!" More Abyssals? Hood looked away, unable to watch.

When the dreaded "unit lost" icons didn't pop up on the display, he looked closer. The Abyssals were falling back, driven back by a new collection of ships. And, before his eyes, like the miracle he so desperately needed given form, ID tags were popping up.

UNSC _Hope Springs Eternal_

UNSC _Seoul_

UNSC _Go For Broke_

UNSC _Mare Boreum_

UNSC _Infinity_

"This is Vice Admiral Thomas Lasky, coming in hot! Home Fleet, we've got your back!"

* * *

/UNSC _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ /

/COMBAT FLIGHT OPS - COMMENCING/

/AUTHORIZATION - LAUNCH LAUNCH LAUNCH/

Fighters shot out the tubes, launching at 25 gs of acceleration. The girls watched them go, disappearing from view.

"Okay girls, our acting CO is one Captain Garcia. He's going to give us the go ahead, we're just waiting…"

"For me?" They glanced behind them and saw him, decked out in a fresh uniform and staring down at a datapad.

"Sir!" He waved their salutes away rather distractedly, performing a few last tasks on the tablet. Done, he put it in his back pocket.

"I-" He'd just started walking up to them when a loud crack sounded from his pocket. He reached in and pulled the tablet out, screen and casing cracked. "Goddammit. Fucking bending." He put it back in and made a mental note of the 300 credits he'd have to shell out. "I wanted to see you off." He glanced out the hangar doors, at the lights twinkling in the void, each marking the strikes of unimaginably powerful weapons. "You're sure you'll be okay out there?"

Dawn smirked. "We're tougher than we look. You know that first hand."

"True enough. Well, just don't go and do anything stupid before I get a chance to repay you."

"Wilco, sir!"

"Very well. You have launch clearance. Give'm hell."

"Alright, it's our turn! Open the doors!" The flight controllers complied, and the enormous doors slid aside.

"Let's go, go, go!" One after another, they ran across the deck and jumped into space, igniting their thrusters after clearing the opening.

"Dawn, Amber, watch my flanks! I'll take point, hm~?"

"Got it!" They flew through debris fields and dust clouds, weaving their way through the missiles now being fired.

Autumn closed her eyes to better concentrate on her crew reports.

 _Engineering, reactors at 200%! Secondaries running hot!_

 _Flight, all ships ready! Waiting launch order!_

 _Navigation! Acceleration courses plotted, solutions reached!_

 _Fire Control, all weapons hot, capacitors charged._

She could feel the energy in her MAC's capacitors, begging to be released. The shell that sat in the breech practically trembled with anticipation. Her crew looked at her expectantly, fingers on keys, waiting to unleash kinetic armageddon.

Her eyes opened. "Fire."

The full fury of a Halcyon class cruiser, dormant for three decades, roared into the void.

The first Abyssal to die didn't stand a chance. Autumn's Mark II Modified MAC fired three times, each shell on target. They pierced the shields, armor belt, destroyed the magazines and obliterated the neural processor. The alien went limp and dark, all systems dead.

The second one took a missile barrage and a railgun shot to the face, detonating its ammo storages. The resulting explosion lasted only a brief moment, silent in the vacuum. Autumn didn't even have time to fire at the third one, instead opting to shoulder charge it and let her escorts kill the stunned alien.

"Heads up, you've got incoming!"

Return fire started to reach them, but went wide around such small, wildly maneuvering targets. In return the two frigates grabbed hands and spun each other around, each releasing a full salvo of missiles in a 360 degree spread. They did not miss.

A lock on klaxon warned Amber of a missile 50 klicks out, within her PDCs' minimum effective arc. "Look out!" She cringed and braced herself for the impact. Debris from the detonation showered over her, but she didn't feel anything else. Confused, she opened her eyes, and saw Autumn in front of her, arms crossed in front of her chest. A wisp of smoke drifted into space.

"Autumn!"

"Don't worry, I'm a Halcyon class! I can take it, hm~?" The honeycombed structure of her armor could withstand much more than what that missile had just delivered.

"Okay, but-"

"Less talking, more shooting!" They turned and ducked as Dawn's point defenses blasted two Abyssal drones out of the sky.

"Thanks for the assist!" Applying thrusts at levels that would have killed an ordinary human, they soared back into the battle. Amber lost track at that point, blasting through enemy ships, weaving through wreckage and explosions. She'd fire her MAC, whirl around and volley off missiles, all while her railguns and CIWS pounded away. Shells hit her, but she shrugged it off. Who had time for pain when there was a battle to be fought?

She joined a fighter wing assaulting an Abyssal cruiser. The alien frantically maneuvered, firing everything it had. A futile effort as Amber and the Broadswords, working in concert, ripped it to shreds. As they flew through its remains she made eye contact with one of the pilots. He tossed her a salute and an adrenaline-fueled grin, waggled his wings and zoomed off.

"Heads up!"

The back of her neck tingled and she leaned sideways, just in time to avoid a shell that streaked past not half a meter before her. Before it could tear into a damaged heavy cruiser, two of her missiles acquired locks and blew it away. The cruiser repaid her by letting loose on the destroyer who'd fired, shredding the already damaged ship.

"Whoever you are, this is Captain Shimura! Thanks for the support!"

"Think nothing of it." Lights blinked green along her MAC, and she willed the weapon to fire.

Her fire control team reported MAC ready. She gave the order and the fairies complied. _Ready! Aim! Fire!_

On target, the shell passed through a burning hole in an Abyssal frigate, flew past where Autumn was locked in a duel with a battleships, just missed where Dawn was pounding a destroyer to dust, just under the battleship _Infinity_ was ramming, and collided with an Abyssal carrier. The alien reeled from the blow and UNSC ships pounced before it could recover. Two destroyer groups, three frigate groups and the entire fleet air wing fell on the alien, leaving nothing but dust behind.

Her radio crackled. "Viper One! Oh God, I'm hit! Ejecting!" The burning hulk of a Broadsword whooshed by her not a moment later, carried on only by its momentum. Amber felt a radar ping behind her, reached out, and grabbed ahold of the outstretched arm of Viper One.

"What the- thanks! Hey wait, what- ahhhhhhhhh!"

"Autumn! Catch!" She threw him at Autumn, then finishing off an enemy frigate. Startled, she turned around and caught him just in time.

"Uuf! Amber, what the-"

"Get him back on a ship!"

"Got it!" She pulled an oddly colored missile from her stocks and clipped the man onto it. "This'll get you back quick, hm~?" She then flung him back towards UNSC line. His oddly elated scream was punctuated by the missile flaming out and turning into a miniature Longsword fighter. The fairy pilot fired a salute back at her before zooming off towards the nearest ship.

Garcia's voice pulled her back to the present. "Amber, tactical feed incoming. The bastards managed to cut off a carrier, it's getting pounded. Get in there and pull them out, I'm dispatching Commander Volkov on the _Lancer_ to assist you."

"Roger!"

The radio hissed to life and a Russian-accented transmission reached her ears. "This is UNSC _Lancer_! In Amber Clad, I don't know who you are, but Garcia says to follow you! Lead the way, _Arashi_ doesn't have much time!"

"Will do, _Lancer_!" She beckoned to Dawn and, together with the 300,000 ton destroyer following them, raced towards the beleaguered carrier _Arashi_. They flew alongside the larger warship, allowing its bulk to shield from debris. At one point they looped around the open hangers, waving at the stunned sailors inside.

Soon, only 10,000 kilometers out, they began to run a gauntlet of Abyssals. Pulling maneuvers that would have been impossible in the presence of gravity and atmosphere, the girls spun and jinked, driving off or destroying every enemy ship that came near while weaving between arcs of PDC fire. Amber looped around the massive destroyer, coming up behind a disoriented Abyssal frigate. She then proceeded to dropkick the alien, igniting the thrusters on her ankles at the same time and barbequing the thing. Commander Volkov was no slouch either, coordinating with Dawn to drive two Abyssal destroyers into his plasma exhausts.

"More data on _Arashi_ 's situation. They're being assaulted by a Re-class battleship and two frigates. Think you can handle that?"

"Do I think?"

It was almost pitiful. The frigates were out of her line of sight, hiding behind the carrier. Putting her mainframes to work, she banked her shot off the Re's shields. The poor frigate never knew what hit it. The other frigate gained first hand understanding of nuclear physics when three thermonuclear warheads went off in its face.

"Update, Admiral Lasky wants to pull some intel off that battleships. Do you think you could keep it alive?"

Dawn grinned, cracking her knuckles. "I'll do you one better." She held one hand out, palm up. A blue light glowed and when it faded away there floated twelve miniature ODST boarding pods, each containing a fairy dressed in an ODST BDU. She then flicked her hand, and they shot out towards the battleship. "Boarding party deployed!" The pods struck home, deploying the fairy troopers inside. Amber winced imagining the battle now raging inside the Abyssal.

The shouts of her troopers, mostly consisting of high pitched, squeaky, "Hey!"s, reached her through the radio. Soon, she began to receive a massive data dump. Downloading it into her mainframes as fast as she could, she dispatched two Pelicans to pick up the ODSTs. Once they were gone, the reactor on the Re overloaded, bathing her in light and hard radiation.

With its attackers gone, the _Arashi_ began to limp back towards the main fleet, escorted by the _Lancer_.

"This is the UNSC _Arashi_ , thank you! Whoever you are, we owe you one!"

"In Amber Clad, this is the _Lancer_. We appreciate the assist. We're good here, get back to the fleet!"

"This is Garcia, we're getting ready to push Lagrange 1. Regroup at geosynch!"

Amber took a look around her, surveying battlespace. Everywhere, the Abyssals were falling back, caught off guard by the sudden arrival of human reinforcements. The UNSC, emboldened and encouraged, was striking back with a vengeance. Destroyers and frigates worked together to harass the Abyssals, preventing them from regaining the initiative. Cruisers struck whenever they saw an opening, capitalizing to the max on the aliens' weakness. Battleships concentrated fire on carriers suddenly left vulnerable by the deaths of their escorts while fighters nipped at the heels of the enemy, weaving intricate patterns through charging UNSC formations. Now that they were on the offense, the humans found their fear was turning into anger, anger like they had never experienced before. From the lowest ranked enlisted man all the way up to Fleet Admiral Hood, they all knew one thing to be true; those alien bastards would _burn_.

"Fuck yeah, nice shot Maverick!"

"Burn baby burn!"

"The hills are alive with the sound of plasma~!"

"How does my nuke taste now, сука?!"

" _Vostok_ , _Kongō, Ramses_ , with me! Let's show these sons of bitches what for!"

"As a great man once said, I would have been your daddy, but the _dog_ beat me over the fence!"

Amber let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. It was okay now. They were going to win this. It was going to be alright.

As if the gods were laughing at her optimism, a frantic transmission came over the radio.

"This is the _Atlantic_! Oh God, port flank, they're breaking through! The landing ships are breaking through! We cannot hold, we canno-" Static swept through the radio band as the ship was incinerated.

Zooming in on _Atlantic_ 's last indicated location, she saw a phalanx of Abyssal capital ships, screened by destroyers and frigates, unnoticed by the fleet until then. They forced their way through the line, hitting the overextended humans where they were weakest. Nothing stood in their way.

"What?! Autumn, Dawn, Amber, get over there and stop them!"

"Will do s- AUGH!" Autumn screamed in pain right before her radio snapped off with a hiss of static. Amber spun and saw the cruiser, slumped over and trailing smoke. Her armor was torn away, the uniform under it scorched black. Engines cold, she'd gone into an uncontrolled tumble.

"No!" Breaking off her attack run, she sped to the girl's side. Matching speed and course, she caught the larger ship around the waist, thrusters straining to shed momentum. Out of the corner of the eye, she spied the cruiser that had done the damage. With a scream of fury, she snapped off a salvo that sent the Abyssal spinning, venting atmosphere from all decks and flaming.

"Heh… embarrassing… I let my guard down… stupid of me."

"Don't say that! Come on, we need to get you help!"

"Amber? Report!"

"Sir! Autumn just took , she cannot move under her own power. I'm getting her out of the battle zone!"

"Shit… alright, what about you, Dawn?"

"My munitions are all gone, all I've got is PDC!"

"You're saying there's nothing you can do?!"

"They're too far! I can't take that many on my own, not with my ammo situation."

Transmissions started to reach up from the ground, filled with the screams of civilians, soldiers and marines calling for help, officers shouting orders.

Out of position, out of ammo, burdened by Autumn's limp body, she watched helplessly as the landing ships, escorted by the remnants of the Abyssal fleet, punched through the UNSC battle line. Using their comrades as cover, they began to descend into the atmosphere, ignoring the ground based fire reaching towards them. Across the globe, on all continents, they disgorged their deadly cargo.

"Why… why didn't you leave me? I… I don't matter right now… "

"Are you kidding?! You're the most important one here! You're the best fighter we have right now, you're injured, and…" She trailed off as Autumn coughed up a glob of blood. Exposed to vacuum, it began to boil in front of her eyes.

"Aw, hell." She toggled the emergency channel. "This is In Amber Clad, I've got a priority medevac, declaring an emergency! I need emergency landing clearance on any ship with a clear sickbay, now!"

"Amber, you're cleared to head for _Infinity_! They've got a full surgical bay waiting, get Autumn over there now!"

* * *

Lasky watched, numb, as the last few Abyssals were wiped out. They'd won battlespace superiority, but at a cost. Casualty reports scrolled into his vision. Well over half his effective combat power, gone. And this was a victory.

"Sir, ground forces are now engaged with Abyssals. Heavy fighting in New York, Beijing, London, Sydney, New Mombasa, Havana, and Quito."

"Admiral, intel suggests the aliens are trying to take the elevators."

"Major armor engagements around Kursk, 20th and 56th armies are in combat."

"SCORCH Contingency has been ordered, units are withdrawing from Moscow, Shanghai, Busan, and Paris in preparation for tactical nuclear packages."

"Mexico City, Los Angeles, New Atlantis, New Baghdad confirmed hit by orbital bombardments."

"Everyone, stop." The bridge crew froze, several of them with mouths half-opened. Lasky pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to get a handle on the situation.

"What's the most critical area?"

"Um…" One of his comms officers glanced at his readouts. "Sydney. HIGHCOM didn't have enough time to exfil Bravo Six and they're surrounded. Lord Hood is ordering available forces to Sydney."

"What forces do we have available?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me. It's our turn now. Those ship-spirits did a hell of a job out there, but it's time for us to show that we still have it."

"We have with us… 21st Company, 25th Company, 6th Recon Company, the 111th ODST, and elements of the 7th Armored. We have the fleet assets to drop all of them."

"Projected casualties on landing?"

"At least 70%."

"Very well. Contact the local commander. Tell them to expect reinforcements."

"Yes sir."

"Also, pass a message on to our resident Spartan."

"Sir?"

"Prepare to drop."


	10. Chapter 10

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… HQ 56TH BTLN/

/ACCESS GRANTED… DIRECT LINK STARTED/

The camera rattled from the sonic boom as the F-299 Kite UCAV swooped low over the battlefield. Its sensor suites pinpointed Abyssal positions, enabling UNSC artillery to correct their firing solutions. The Abyssals had learned to duck whenever a Kite flew overhead, as it was always followed by a hail of steel.

This time was no different, as 800 mm artillery shells began to fall behind it. One hundred miles away, SPG crews worked furiously to reload and re-aim their electromagnetically fired guns. Automated loading mechanisms rammed fresh 2 ton shells into the breeches. By the time the first salvo had landed, the second was in the air and the third was in the barrel.

Behind them came the armor, Viper light tanks and Reaver UCS. The tanks, nimble vehicles, capable of 170 km/h cross country, proved equally agile in the confines of a city. They charged across wide boulevards, using their high-velocity 70mm rotary cannons to rain suppressing fire on enemy positions. Using their mass, they rammed through buildings and walls to gain better firing positions, simultaneously deploying heavily armed soldiers. Turret mounted launchers launched volley after volley of missiles, sending a flood of precision guided death down on the Abyssal heads.

The Reaver drivers pushed their humanoid machines to their fullest extent, running up buildings, vaulting rivers, jumping high above the battlefield to come crashing back down a moment later, a crater and a crushed Abyssal beneath them. The more experienced pilots moved like they'd been born into the machines, performing flips and twists usually associated with professional free runners. One mech ripped a billboard out of the ground and used it as a battle axe, crushing skulls and splitting bodies. Another grabbed a hapless Abyssal and threw it at an enemy drone so hard it exploded on contact.

The infantry weren't falling behind either. Advancing behind a hail of covering fire, deploying drones, remote mortars and sentries, they pushed forward. Heavy armor covered them, protecting them from radiation and the return fire now arcing towards them. Pink-purple tracer fire zipped by them, embedding in the instacrete and skipping off the buildings. Rockets punched through the smoke, exploding in starburst patterns. Scores of soldiers went down, their bodies disintegrating into black dust as the malignant effects of Abyssal weaponry took hold. Their comrades weren't cowed, however, pausing to say a brief prayer or to pick up dog tags before charging ahead.

Hellbringers gave as good as they took, incinerating aliens with an aluminum powder-napalm mixture politely referred to in informal conversations as "hell on Earth". Behind their gas masks they relished the smell of burning alien that penetrated the filters. Army Rangers crawled underneath the Abyssal's firing arcs, a knife in their teeth and shotgun in their hands. Once at the Abyssal positions, they sprang up and proceeded to rip the aliens apart, using their bodies as bullet shields.

Several Spartan IVs joined in, blurs on the battlefield. The only way they could be tracked was through their trail of destruction. A decapitated Abyssal here, an eviscerated one there, one with a bullet hole in its head, one with its own knife in its stomach. Once or twice, they were caught mid-kill by opponents. Abyssals would pounce en masse, only to be flung off in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and slashes. Surrounded by corpses, the Spartan would stand for a moment, before dashing off towards the next opponent.

Rhino tanks ground forward, crushing the bodies of the dead undertread. Entire skyscrapers crumbled under the impacts of their cannons. The crumbling buildings were barely avoided by Wyvern VTOLs circling above the battle. Derived from Forerunner Phaetons, the aircraft darted around the battlefield, teleporting behind their enemies to give their guns a better shot. Two marines sat in jumpseats, operating hardlight rotary cannons to the tune of 600 rounds a minute.

And it wasn't enough. The Abyssals clung to their positions, firing back like bullets were going out of style. Tanks lay on their sides, belching smoke, victims of precision artillery and well placed mines. Suicide drones, ignoring anti aircraft fire, plunged into bunched up soldiers and detonated. Craters and scattered body parts marked where a group of soldiers had been killed in this fashion. Abyssal anti air knocked Wyverns out of the sky, spinning and flaming. Their crew jumped for safety, only to be shot to pieces as soon as they abandoned the craft. Reavers were swarmed by Abyssals, torn to pieces and their pilots dragged out screaming. Plasma rounds burned through the armored fuel tanks of the Hellbringers, detonating them and leaving nothing behind. Rangers found themselves with their backs to the walls, slowly overwhelmed by the horde. And in the middle of the road, unnoticed, lay a single Mjolnir Scout helmet, visor cracked and burned.

The goal for which so many were dying was the HIGHCOM Bravo Six facility. A shining conical monolith towering five kilometers above the ground, it was an indelible part of the Sydney skyline. It's shining exterior, now cratered and scorched, was a beacon of strength for the rest of humanity.

Equally impressive was the massive underground complex. Extending for 8 kilometers under the ground, the first three kilometers made of solid rock, it was known as one of the most secure, if not the most secure, facilities in human space.

Fat lotta good that was doing it.

Bravo-Six shuddered from another bomb hit. Dust rained from the roof and the lights flickered, casting the room into darkness. The medics worked by the light of handheld lamps, bandaging wounds and administering painkillers with speed and professionalism. Off to the side, in a small, taped off section, laid the body bags.

In front of the door, several marines, most with bloody bandages wrapped around various body parts, manned machine turrets. Other soldiers struggled to remove the debris blocking the door, ignoring the ominous creaks and rumbles that resulted from their efforts. Yet more soldiers worked to shore up the structure of the room, wedging titanium girders between the roof and the floor. Chunks of instacrete fell on them, but they didn't feel it.

And in the corner, all but ignored, stood the highest ranking officers in the UNSC.

General of the Air Force Alisa Kagome.

General of the Army Joseph Martinez.

Commandant of the Marine Corps Anthony D'Orlean.

CINC-ONI Serin Osman.

All except Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood, still in orbit. The heads of the UNSC armed forces, commanders of the most powerful military force in human history. Any one of them could have had cities leveled on a whim, whole continents set ablaze.

And yet they were powerless.

"Osman, how did ONI not pick up on this earlier?"

"It's hard to get data when half the navy's relay stations are blown to bits and the other half are vented to space."

"So, is ONI incapable of operating without Navy support now?"

"Careful what you say, Commandant. I'd hate for your troops to get the wrong intel and find themselves in, oh, a _tight_ situation."

Kagome shook her head at the bickering of the others. Even with humanity on the ropes, it seemed they were incapable of getting past petty power plays and being the most junior head of the most junior armed service, it seemed she was most mature of all of them.

A deep rumbling noise vibrated the ground, causing them to break off their argument. The medics leaned over their patients to protect them from a renewed shower of debris. A large chunk of ceiling fell to the floor, revealing the titanium metalwork underneath.

"Shit. That was a big one."

"Big enough to get through the seal, you think?"

"Naw man, that thing's rated for orbital bombardment. No piddly ass alien firecracker is getting through that."

"Dunno. I was on Akoran, saw a fucking backpack bomb blast a hole in one of the seawalls. If they could do that, they could probably blow away Olympus Mons if they felt like it."

D'Orlean shot a look at his readouts. "Sensor have registered catastrophic failures in the first seal. I think we can assume Bravo-Six has been breached."

"They'll be heading here next."

The marines seemed to feel the same way, as the focus shifted from shoring up the structure to piling debris into barricades. What claymores they had were laid facing the door, and engineers were breaking out the sentries. Machine gun turrets were emplaced with overlapping fields of fire and marines used C8 to blow foxholes into the reinforced concrete. It was a futile effort: they were holding a fixed position with limited supplies and no escape route, and the enemy had unlimited supplies and time.

D'Orlean and Martinez, career soldiers, joined in the work, piling up instacrete and sighting machine guns. Kagome and Osman hung back, Kagome because she didn't have the necessary expertise and Osman because, well, ONI.

Kagome glanced at the painting on the wall. The UNSC _Everest_ , bow facing the viewer, faced down the Covenant fleet. Psi Serpentis glowed in the background, the debris of three hundred UNSC ships spread in front of it.

"Admiral Cole's Last Stand." It seemed strangely appropriate for the circumstances. "I wonder what you would have thought of this."

The building rumbled, and another wave of dust fell from the roof.

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/SYDNEY ORBITAL TRACKING STATION/

/INBOUND TRANSPONDER… VICTOR DASH SIERRA ONE ONE SEVEN/

In an ideal situation, the pods would have smashed into enemy forces, leaving them battered and stunned. The occupants would then have jumped out and, taking advantage of their disoriented state, mopped up initial opposition before moving on their objective.

This, Chief mused, was not an ideal situation. Two ODSTs had fallen victim to anti aircraft on the way down, their pods nothing but dust before they'd had time to scream. Another's parachute, damaged by flak, had malfunctioned. The trooper had managed to steer her pod into an enemy position, crashing into the gun emplacement in a brilliant explosion. They hadn't heard from her since.

Another three ODSTs were killed as soon as their doors blew off. Caught in a crossfire, nothing was left of them except red pulp. Two had made it out, rifles barking, but they'd been taken from the side. A single sniper round turned one's head into pulp, exiting in a crimson spray of blood and bone before piercing the other's heart. Their bodies lay about one hundred meters back, pools of blood slowly forming around them.

Chief's pod hadn't been hit only through sheer luck. The amount of flak, both UNSC and Abyssal, in the sky was simply absurd. It seemed the atmosphere was more hot metal than air. That, though Chief as another hail of metal particles bounced off his armor, might not have been far from the truth.

"Left side! Chief, look out!" He ducked under a rocket, rolling to the side and coming back up firing. A plasma grenade from the under barrel launcher took out the Abyssal's shields before a single battle rifle burst dropped it with a hole in its head. If he was to be honest, Chief would admit that this was rather refreshing with him. Dealing with, in the words of one ODST, "Sparkly magic anime spirit ship girl bullshit" was beginning to wear on his nerves. Simple, understandable combat was a relief he thought, as he flipped an Abyssal over his back and stomped its head in.

"Chief, there's a Pelican down thirty meters from here. No survivors, but they were members of the 7th Armored. There's a Viper still attached, we can use it to break through to Bravo Six."

"Got it, Cortana." He swept an Abyssal off its legs and plunged his knife into its back, pinning it to the ground. It thrashed once, twice, then went still. Chief pulled the blade out, turned, and hurled into another alien's eye. He caught the body before it fell and pulled the knife out, then ran it across the creature's throat for good measure.

All resistance in his vicinity thus neutralized, he ran towards the waypoint Cortana had helpfully set. About twenty feet up was a Pelican embedded in the side of an apartment complex. He climbed into the dropship and released the tank attached to it, then dropped flipped the Viper over right side up. Chief pulled open the hatch and jumped into the cockpit, allowing Cortana to take care of the start up procedures.

"So you _do_ know what the ladies like after all!"

Chief smirked at the reminder of his late friend Sergeant Johnson. The tank purred beneath him, all systems functional. He backed out of the ruined apartment building and pointed the tank towards the towering form of Bravo Six.

"Chief, we've got multiple armored vehicles on the bridge! Looks like three medium tanks and five APCs!"

"We can handle it." He took manual control of the gun, bringing the rotary cannon to bear. His capacitors held enough charge for a thirty second burst of firing; at maximum speed, the cannon would deplete its magazine in five. Chief toggled the burst function and laid the crosshairs on a medium tank.

Six AP/HE tungsten-DPU armor penetrators launched from the barrel, the electromagnetic rails propelling them downrange. They pierced the armor and exploded, cooking off the ammo racks and blowing the turret high in the air.

Another burst over-penetrated an APC, going through both sides without exploding. Barely slowed by the paper-thin armor, they then blew through the armor of another tank, and ignited the fuel. The resulting explosion was powerful enough to push two APCs off the bridge and into the river.

The remaining vehicles began to return fire, shells streaking towards the Viper. Chief let the targeting protocols take care of firing, focusing instead on evading hits. As powerful as the Viper's main gun was, its armor was nothing to write home about.

Plunging shellfire bracketed him, blowing holes left and right. In response, the tank launched volley after volley of missiles. Explosions mid air indicated that interception protocols were working just fine.

The last tank exploded, torn in half by a single burst. All targets engaged successfully, the turret spun down and initiated reload procedures.

"Chief, aerial surveillance indicates Abyssals have broken through Bravo Six's defenses! Hurry, they don't have much time!" He gunned the motor, ramping over a slab of instacrete. The jump took him over a low wall, where the tank landed on an Abyssal field artillery position. He then sped off to clear the plaza around the HIGHCOM facility, leaving a pile of squashed aliens behind him.

The next few minutes blurred together into a mosaic of explosions, blood, bullets, and body parts. At one point Chief realized he'd abandoned his tank. Looking behind him, he saw the scorched hulk, overturned in a fountain. In between him and the tank was a trail of bodies and burned out vehicles. He snapped the neck of the Abyssal in his arms, then stood back up.

"Hey Chief, I think you missed a spot back there." A fountain of debris spouted into the air, bodies and instacrete spreading out at the top. "Never mind. Plaza is clear."

"Where's the entrance?"

"Over there. There should be-" Cortana was cut off by an explosion that sent pieces of Bravo Six flying outwards. They were followed by around twenty Abyssal bodies, which landed in the river with heavy splashes.

Chief and Cortana glanced at each other. They came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

"Get in there! Now!"

* * *

The room was collapsing despite their best efforts to shore it up. Several sections had been abandoned, declared a lost cause by the engineers. What was left was being held up by quite possibly the most structurally unsound collection of supports there ever was. Titanium beams, piles of rock, stacks of crates; anything that would reach the roof was being used.

The engineers had given up trying to get the doors open. In their own words, they were "too damn heavy" for the equipment on hand. Multiple C8 blasts hadn't made a dent, and they were reluctant to use C12 for fear of killing everyone in the room.

Some joker was playing music. The "Siege of Madrigal" filled the room, the lonely piano echoing off the walls. The medics were out of supplies; the wounded now lay in a corner, out of the way. A lucky few were unconscious, either from painkillers or from their own wounds. The unfortunate suffered in silence, gritting their teeth against the pain. Those who could still walk assisted in preparation.

Marines talked quietly among themselves, talking of home and family, friends and comrades.

"Hey, did I ever show you this picture? Here…"

"Damn. Who's this?"

"My girlfriend. I promised to marry her after this war."

"Optimistic, aren't we?"

"Well, I can hope, can't I?"

"Yeah. You do that, man."

 _Resignation. Acceptance_

The joint chiefs stood to one side, trying to ignore their oncoming demise. Their ranks meant nothing now, with death as the great equalizer. D'Orlean walked among his marines, chatting, laughing quietly at a joke here, trying to keep morale up. Martinez had a small group of soldiers gathered around him, giving a final pep talk. Kagome spoke with airmen present. There was no fear in their faces, only a stoic acceptance of fate and a hard defiance. They knew they were going to die. But they wouldn't die cheaply.

 _Defiance. Fury._

The building shook, another massive explosion. The second seal was breached. In the background, "The Siege of Madrigal" still played.

 _She knew these things. She knew how it felt._

The marines said their final jokes, laughed their final laughs. A few uttered prayers, not for themselves but for their buddies.

 _Facing an unstoppable enemy, all on her own. Trapped, back to the wall. Completely hopeless. Wishing only that her friends could get away._

The lights flickered, went out, and plunged the room into darkness. They would not come back on.

 _She vowed that day: if only for a day, if only for a hour, if only for a minute, if only for a second, if she could ensure that nobody felt that hopeless… she would be happy._

/SYSTEMS BOOT/

Ratcheting sounds filled the room as bolts were pulled back. Soldiers took positions, hiding behind mounds of rubble. Machine gunners found their sight lines in the darkness, licking their bone dry lips.

/OS 7.0.2530/

 _So when she felt that overwhelming sense of despair, that terrible resignation, that tragic acceptance: how could she not respond?_

/REACTOR… FUNCTIONAL/

The wounded took up positions next to their comrades. They held rifles, pistols, knives, even chunks of rock. If they were going to die, they were going to die fighting back. Their death would not be one of helplessness, lying on a stretcher.

/WEAPONS… FUNCTIONAL/

 _She'd sworn an oath - to protect humanity. Some might have considered their duty done, but for her, in death did not duty end._

A third explosion. The third seal. Only a few hundred meters above their heads, the Abyssals drew closer. And still, they waited.

/PROPULSION… FUNCTIONAL/

 _She could still feel where the nova had scorched her hull. She felt a surge of bitter pride - her finest victory, yet her worst defeat. Three hundred Covenant ships, at the cost of her entire fleet._

/SLIPSPACE… FUNCTIONAL/

 _She remembered how_ Io _had saluted her as she'd jumped away- the look on_ Io' _s face as the nova consumed her._

As the last note of the song faded away, a thump sounded from the door. Then another, then another. Unseen by anyone, the painting on the wall shook.

/ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL/

 _That song. That day, it had played over the fleet broadcast, a final reminder of what they'd left behind. What they'd be leaving behind. The piano had accompanied their deaths, buying time for Admiral Cole._

 _She swore that, someday, she'd make that sacrifice worthwhile. She'd use the second chance she'd been given. Her duty was not at an end, and humanity still needed its guardian, its shield, its rock, its mountain among the stars._

/ALL CHECKS COMPLETE/

 _It was how Admiral Cole would have wanted it._

/CA-2 UNSC _EVEREST_ , BOOT COMPLETE/

"Don't worry Io. I'm not about to waste my second chance."

* * *

With a groan and crash of tearing titanium, the door caved in, allowing the horde to pour into the room. The marines tightened their fingers on the triggers but, before the first shot could fire, something dashed past them. By the meager light now spilling in from the hallway, they could make out… _something_ , tossing the aliens around like ragdolls. A machine gunner ducked as an Abyssal flew over his head and smashed into the wall behind him. Flashes of light from alien weaponry blinded the soldiers, but their shots simply ricocheted. One marine felt his assault rifle torn out of his hands, and the dakka-dakka sound of the MA5d filled the room.

Their eyes becoming more adjusted to the firefight, they saw the figure use an Abyssal as a baseball bat, sending the hapless creature spinning sideways and bowling over its comrades. It then used the momentum from its throw to go into a slide, firing upwards at the aliens. Bullets pockmarked the ceiling and aliens crumpled.

 _Click_

The magazine empty, it proceeded to use the assault rifle as a club. It butt-whipped one Abyssal upside the chin, knocking it to the floor. It lifted its foot, and the crunch of bone caused every human in the room to wince.

The last few aliens scrambled frantically for the exit, but in an instant it was in front of them. It turned into a blur of motion, breaking bones and caving in skulls. Punches sent bodies into walls, while kicks sent them to the floor to be killed by vicious stomps.

Soon, all were dead but one. The figure turned from the Abyssal it'd just pounded into the ground to stare at it. Several of the marines would swear later on that they heard the alien whimper.

"That's enough out of you." Its voice was a barely a whisper as it picked the Abyssal up by its neck and punched _through_ its body. The crack of bones and squelch of guts turned the stomachs of even the hardened marines.

The body fell to the floor with a thump, the only sound in a suddenly silent room. The figure stood over the body for a moment, breathing heavily, before it turned around. Nobody dared to move.

"Catch." The marine barely had time to react before it threw his rifle back towards him. He caught it by the barrel shroud, then hurriedly turned it around and lit the flashlight.

The sudden illumination caused the person to grimace and cover their eyes while the marines waited for their visors to polarize. With the glass sufficiently darkened, they could finally see what that thing was.

A girl in her late twenties, wearing a somehow impeccably white naval dress uniform. Short cropped brown hair fell around her neck, and a row of medals decorated her chest, glinting in the light. She stood tall, more than six feet in height.

The marines and soldiers, tense as they were, began to tighten fingers on triggers. D'Orlean and Martinez noticed this.

"Stand down. Hands off those triggers." The two generals set an example, safing their weapons with exaggerated motions and holstering them. One by one, reluctantly, their subordinates followed suit.

Kagome realized then her pistol was out as well. A little embarrassed that she'd lost situational awareness so badly, she quickly holstered it. She also motioned to her airmen to put their weapons away.

"Thank you. Nice not to be staring barrels." The girl lowered her arm, blinking to clear her vision. She seemed to take in the room and the sorry states of it occupants. "Seems like I arrived just in time, didn't I?"

Of course it was Osman who spoke up next. "Identify yourself. Now." Unseen by her, the other joint chiefs subtly facepalmed. Naturally, ONI would go all alpha-bitch on the person who'd just saved them.

Luckily, she seemed not to take offense. "I highly doubt you'd believe me if I told you."

"Not good enough," said Osman, not liking the evasive answer.

"It's going to have to do for now." She closed her eyes for a second. "We've got two full enemy battalions above us. They currently hold the only functioning elevator." She glanced over at the wounded. "They're not going to last much longer. We need to get them out of here."

"Not until you tell us who you are." She let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Well…" The marines blinked, and she wasn't there anymore. "Unfortunately…" A slight wind blew on their skin. They spun around. "We…" Suddenly, she was behind Osman, faster than the former Spartan-II could react. "Don't…" A hand was on her back, another gripping her gun hand. "Have…" She pushed and pulled at the same time while planting a foot behind her knee. "Time for that." Before anyone could react, Osman was on her knees, pistol on the floor. Her arms were restrained behind her, a foot on her legs keeping her from standing up. She couldn't turn her head, but felt something next to her ear. "Okay?"

She managed to keep her nervousness from leaking into her voice. "I recommend that you let me go, if you what's good for you."

"Unfortunately, Admiral Osman, I don't answer to you." A fist slammed into her temple, and she was out cold.

The others stood frozen, unable to believe what had just happened. What was this girl?

D'Orlean found his voice first. "Wha…" He swallowed and tried again. "What are you?" She glanced at the painting still hanging on the wall.

"Call me Everest." The roof cracked, the crumbling coming at a faster pace. "And I think we should get out of here."

* * *

Behind them, the room finally caved in, hundreds of tons of rock and titanium falling inwards. The wounded were placed on stretchers or carried over shoulders. Everest herself had the unconscious form of Admiral Osman slung on her back. Nobody protested.

"Alright. General, which way to the elevator?" The three generals looked at each other in a brief, intense match of _you tell her no you tell her_.

Kagome lost. "It was that way." She pointed down a hallway choked with debris.

"Not a problem." She handed Osman over to an Army trooper and held out a hand, closing her eyes and concentrating. The air around her shimmered, coalesced, and turned into an oversized gauntlet wrapping around her forearm. Everest fiddled with it a bit, then pointed her arm at the debris. "You're gonna want to step back."

The humans complied immediately and with enthusiasm, retreating around a corner. Everest paused to consult her engineers.

 _You're sure this'll work?_

 _I did the calculations myself. If it doesn't work, next month's salary goes to Hawkins._

 _Very well._ She opened her eyes, engaged targeting protocols, and let loose with a single Archer.

The modified missile struck an instacrete slab. Yield inhibitors engaged, denying most of the payload a chance to detonate. What happened instead was equivalent to a mere two kilograms of TNT, albeit highly directed. The blast shot bits of reinforced concrete and metal everywhere, leaving behind only softly glowing slag. Everest was untouched by the blast; a mere two kilograms was nothing for her.

Once the noise had dissipated, the others poked their heads around the corner. A few had nosebleeds from the extreme proximity of the blast, but were otherwise unharmed. The debris was gone, blasted into slag. Everest took on a bemused look at their awestruck expressions.

"Well? Path is clear. Let's go." Still looking confused, the soldiers not carrying the wounded shouldered their weapons and moved ahead. The others, bearing their comrades on stretchers or on their shoulders, moved behind them. Everest came behind everyone, watching the rear.

One Abyssal patrol died in a hail of gunfire. Another was put down in a bout of vicious hand-to-hand, the marines using knives, bayonets, and rifle butts to tear them apart. They didn't look behind themselves, but could hear the sounds of combat. Evidently, from the distinct lack of enemy fire coming from the rear, Everest was doing just fine.

"Elevator just ahead!"

"Hold up." She shut her eyes once more, listening to something within her. "The lobby level is clear. You should encounter no resistance up there. I…" She frowned. "Wait… what?" Her eyes widened. "Okay, wounded first. Get going, hurry!"

"Wait, what's happening?"

"There's a large Abyssal group approaching on this level, get out of here now!" The group dissolved into a frenzy of activity, marines rushing their injured comrades into the elevator car. Soon, it was filled to capacity. That still left around fifteen marines, stranded with Everest.

Martinez, now carrying Osman over a shoulder and not looking happy about it, glanced back at Everest. "What about you?"

"I'll be okay. I have a habit of getting out of impossible situations. Now, go." She hit the 'up' button. "Besides, I still have an explanation to give. I'm not about to die until the job's done." With that sentence, the doors slid closed and the elevator began its journey upwards.

Everest turned back to the marines still left with her. Greenhorns, every one of them. And yet they'd still let their comrades go ahead of them, quite possibly giving up their own lives in the process. Everest checked her chronometer; five minutes until the Abyssals arrived at their position, fifteen until the elevator came back down. It'd be tight.

She scooped up an abandoned assault rifle. Everest checked the ammo counter; 27 bullets. It would have to do. Unless…

"Marine, can you spare me a magazine?"

"Huh? Uh, no. I mean, no problem. I mean, uh, here! Take it!" The marine handed over a full magazine with jumpy, tense movements. She took the magazine, giving him a smile to put him more at ease.

"Thank you." Turning, she addressed everyone with her. "Alright. We've got three minutes until the Abyssals show up. They'll be coming down that these two corridors. Cover them and conserve your ammo, we need to hold for ten minutes until the elevator gets back."

They hurried to obey, taking positions hugging the walls. A few marines managed to shift debris into a workable defensive perimeter. For Everest's part, she stood in front of the positions, arms crossed, waiting for the onslaught. She wasn't about to let these marines face the Abyssals alone; she'd be in front, duking it out.

Heavy stomps, and lots of them. Safeties were disengaged and sight lines established. Everest breathed deeply, letting a calm settle over her.

The Abyssals appeared at the end of the corridor. Seeing her, they seemed to hesitate, growling and eyeing her. In response, she twitched a finger.

"Come get it, boys." They complied.

* * *

"Reloading!"

"Last mag!"

"I'm dry, going to pistol!"

She'd run out of ammo two minutes ago. Checking the time, there were still two minutes left on the elevator. Everest growled in frustration, breaking another Abyssal's spine over her knee. She hurled the limp body like a frisbee, bowling over the aliens crowding into the corridor.

Plasma and crystal shots bounced off her skin. Blades cut her clothes but not her flesh. Through the maelstrom, she towered above her foes, a mountain rising above the sea of war.

"Frag out!" The grenade knocked her opponents back, giving her some breathing room. Simultaneously, the elevator doors opened with a pleasant _ding_.

"Go! Get in there!" The marines looked ready to argue, but then a new, even louder roar turned their faces pale.

"Champion!" They rushed into the elevator as fast as they could, throwing down their weapons when they wouldn't fit in.

One of the marines, holding the doors open, screamed at her. "Come on! Get in! We've got to go!"

"No! I'll hold this thing off! Get out of here!"

"Bu-"

"That's an order!" As far as she knew, she had no real authority over them, but battlefield example could be more powerful than any rank. As it was, the marine was only too happy to obey, pounding the button to close the doors.

The elevator went up once again, accompanied by the fading whine of the motor. Everest turned to face the massive Abyssal. The other aliens had retreated behind the thing, content to let it finish off this seemingly unbeatable foe.

It stepped forward into the large open area created by the junction of the three hallways. Everest recognized what this was: a challenge. "Alright. If that's how you want to do this." She stepped forward as well.

The two combatants eyed each other, sizing the opponent up. Everest's sensor suite fed her relevant statistics: mass, size, estimated striking power, armor strength, speed. Her computers compiled the data into a single threat assessment: Grade Five. She smirked. Finally, something worth an effort.

The Abyssal struck first, a lightning blow to the gut that left her staggering. Following it were two more that she barely deflected. She caught a fourth strike, guiding it to the side and leaving the alien overextended.

Punch, punch, kick. Her cruiser-grade strength sent the Abyssal into the wall. Not one to give her opponent time to recover, she followed it with a two uppercuts and a brutal haymaker.

Before her last blow could land, the alien's hand shot up and grabbed her fist. It followed by planting both legs on her chest and pushing out. She found herself on the ground, the alien straddling her and about to deliver a series of vicious hammer blows.

Acting fast, she wrapped her legs around its body, planting her palm on its chest and shoving. The move sent them rolling across the floor, ending with Everest on top. Pinning the alien with her legs, she wasted no time in delivering a beating that left the alien bloodied and dazed.

She was just about to deliver the finishing blow when the elevator doors opened behind her. The chime diverted her attention for just a split second, but it was all the Abyssal needed. It used its position to its advantage and inflicted a savage headbutt. As Everest reeled back, it spun and backhanded her into the elevator car. It followed her in, entering just before the doors slid shut again. The sudden acceleration of the lift pressed Everest to the floor, just as the alien stomped down on her back.

Her spine didn't break, but it sure as hell felt like it. She swore she felt her ribs, warship grade titanium, crack. Stunned, she could only lie there as her opponent wailed on her.

Eventually, the Abyssal tired of the game. Getting her in a headlock, it prepared to snap her neck and finish her off once and for all. She could feel its hot breath in her face, the foul smell of hot metal and rot choking her.

It growled in her face, sounding vaguely satisfied. This human had been a surprisingly worthy opponent. A true test of strength. It stood still, savoring the moment.

Everest's senses came back to her ever so slowly. She realized the position she was in, but kept still in order to buy time. Looking down and to her left, the sight of her free left arm greeted her. She grinned in the alien's face.

"Hey." The Abyssal's face registered surprise. The human was still conscious? Well, better that it should be able to see its death coming.

"Bit of advice for you. Celebrating your victory?" Her smile turned grim. "Make sure you've won, first." She held her left hand in front of its face, Archer missiles mounted and primed.

* * *

Everest had said there'd be no opposition, but circumstances change. In this case, the marines found themselves engaged with around twenty new Abyssals in the lobby. Steel filled the air as the firefight devolved into a stalemate. The marines couldn't leave cover without being gunned down, but neither could the Abyssals.

That was before an explosion from the elevator well sent the doors flying outward, slamming into the aliens and sending them out the door. The explosion was followed by the body of a truly massive alien skidding across the floor into the middle of the atrium.

Out of the smoke stumbled Everest, clothes torn to shreds, singed, bloodied, and beaten. She made it to the nearest piece of cover before slumping to the floor, coughing and gagging. Medics rushed to her side but she waved them away, directing them towards the other wounded.

Chief ran through the doorway, rifle out and prepared for heavy combat. When he wasn't greeted by gunfire, he lowered the gun, wondering what the hell was happening.

A marine stuck his head above cover. Upon seeing the Spartan II, he jumped up, waving wildly. "Guys! It's the Chief! Chief's here!"

"Bloody hell!"

"For real?!"

"Let me see, let me see!"

Chief identified the JCS, walked over and rendered a salute. "Generals. Adm… What happened to Admiral Osman?"

The officers looked at each other. "She hit her head."

"She hit her head."

"Yep. On a rock."

"Sounds legit. I'll say- hey, who's that over there?" Chief felt Cortana gesture in his mind and turned to look. There, propped up against a piece of concrete, battered and barely conscious, was a girl. Her uniform was ruined, barely enough remained to keep her modesty intact. Around her left forearm was a large gauntlet, small conical shapes peeking out from underneath it. He suddenly realized that the gauntlet looked very familiar.

"Don't tell me…"

The girl glanced over at the Spartan, finally registering his presence. With a struggle, she got to her feet, leaning against the concrete block, and brought her arm up in a ragged salute. "Chief. Good to see you again."

"Identify yourself."

"Heh…" She gave a pained smile. "How do I do this… CA-2, UNSC _Everest_ , reporting for action."

Cortana broke the silence that resulted.

"Another one? Really?"


	11. The ONI Files: Part 1

/ACESSING… /

/AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED - ONI SEC 3/

/ACCESS ATTEMPT WILL BE REPORTED/

/AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED - ***************/

From: -REDACTED-

To: -REDACTED-

Re: Intel Request

Report: Basic Abyssal Physiology

Sir. As requested, with -REDACTED-, I've created a basic overview of Abyssal physiology, both space based and land based. Space is going to be in my next info dump.

NOTE: THIS LIST IS A LIST OF KNOWN/COMMONLY ENCOUNTERED ABYSSALS ON WHICH THERE IS SUFFICIENT INFORMATION. SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN AS A COMPREHENSIVE LIST

ABYSSAL TYPE: NU

SUBTYPES: NU MINOR, NU MAJOR

Nickname: Imp

Average height: 1.5 meters

Average weight: 124 kilograms

Appearance: Purplish-blue color scheme common to all Abyssals. Two legs or leg equivalents. Five arms or arm equivalents. Head is reminiscent of a shark's in that it is tapered and smooth. Large mouth (10 cm at fullest extent), 42 teeth. Broad chest. Eyes commonly reported to glow blue.

Combat role: Cannon fodder. Used to swamp UNSC defenses en masse. Brings to mind grunts back during the HC War. Does not exhibit knowledge of even basic infantry tactics when operating independently.

Tactics: Suicide charges, en masse. Some have been observed to use small arms, but they are scattered and no general trend can be determined. They only employ higher level tactics when commanded by Wo-class or higher.

Equipment: Teeth, claws, numbers, occasional small arms. Negligible armor and shields.

Assessment: Negligible threat. Only threatening in large groups. Tight, disciplined automatic fire shreds them.

ABYSSAL TYPE: KA

SUBTYPES: KA ALPHA, KA OMEGA

Nickname: Gremlin

Average height: 2.3 meters

Average weight: 100 kilograms

Appearance: Refer to TYPE NU above. Much the same, except with smaller head and mouth, taller, thinner, and with only four arms or arm equivalents. Eyes are reported to glow yellow. Field reports indicate that the shape is more 'warped' for lack of a better term, more unnatural to the human eye. Troops commonly state that it seems deformed or just 'not right' in some way.

Combat role: Scout-sniper. Can sneak through sensor nets to assassinate key personnel, or pick personnel off from afar. Commonly operate in groups of three, with two OMEGAs led by one ALPHA. Exhibit mid-level knowledge of infantry tactics, using terrain to their advantage and maneuvering frequently.

Tactics: Sniping, precision attacks, stealth. Employ sniper rifles or sniper rifle equivalents. Have also been observed to use submachine gun equivalents, although their use is limited to ALPHAs. All are equipped with some kind of melee weapon, typically a flash-generated crystal blade.

Equipment: Crystal blade, sniper rifle, submachine gun. Negligible armor, minor shielding.

Assessment: Moderate threat. Sniper rifle is able to penetrate standard infantry armor with ease, and submachine gun is capable of accurate, medium range automatic fire. Crystal blade can penetrate heavy armor. Sniper rifle is a threat to vehicles. Recommended either to engage at extreme range or in close proximity, thereby neutralizing one or more of their weapons. Sniper rifles, shotguns and automatic weapons recommended.

ABYSSAL TYPE: WO

SUBTYPES: WO KAI, WO KAI NI, WO REGULAR

Nickname: Demon

Average height: 2.6 meters

Average weight: 190 kilograms

Appearance: Humanoid, two legs or leg equivalents. Two arms or arm equivalents. Face is reminiscent of a human face, which may cause momentary confusion at range. Eyes reported to glow red.

Combat role: Squad leader, tactical officer, heavy infantry. Equipped with heavy armor and shields, one WO is considered capable of wiping out an entire UNSC platoon. Found in command of squads of NU and KA types. Exhibit high-level knowledge of infantry tactics, flanking, surrounding, and creating diversions to heighten combat effectiveness.

Tactics: Flanking, surrounding, diversions. Uses terrain heavily. Proficient in combined arms warfare, has been observed using vehicular and artillery support. Highly capable in close to medium range combat, though should be engaged with caution at long ranges.

Equipment: Assault rifle or assault rifle equivalent, shotgun or equivalent, rocket launchers, grenade launchers, light machine guns, energy blade, designated marksman rifle. Moderate armor and shielding.

Assessment: Severe threat. Should be considered priority targets and eliminated at first opportunity. Use of vehicles and artillery to eliminate them is highly encouraged. In lieu of them, heavy weapons such as machine guns, sniper rifles, and rocket launchers should be used.

APPEND: Severe psychological effects are caused by close proximity to all Abyssals, but especially the WO and RE(below). It is theorized that this is a result of their -REDACTED-. It is not known how this nature could cause such effects. More research recommended to increase UNSC combat effectiveness.

ABYSSAL TYPE: RE

Nickname: Champion

Average height: 4 meters

Average weight: 550 kilograms

Appearance: Large, heavy set. Two leg equivalents, two arms. Can stand on two feet, goes to all fours when running for better armor angling and speed. Arms are equipped with large claws, as are feet. Head is small relative to body, which is covered in spiky armor. Eyes have been observed to glow orange. Some appear to have tails or tail equivalents.

Combat role: Heavy infantry, berzerkers, tanks. Doesn't use advanced tactics, doesn't need them.

Tactics: Charging toward UNSC units, allowing heavy armor to absorb shots. Uses extreme strength to rip apart UNSC units. One RE is a match for an UNSC armor platoon.

Equipment: Extremely heavy armor, heavy weapons, moderate shielding. Some have been observed to utilize

Assessment: EXTREME threat. Engage with artillery and armored vehicles at range. Air support recommended.

ABYSSAL TYPE: LE

Nickname: Drone

Average height: 1.5 meters

Average weight: 60 kilograms

Appearance: Insectoid. Exoskeleton present and visible. Four to eight wings present; subtypes have yet to be identified, but it appears that the more wings, the higher rank. Four arms or arm equivalents, two legs or leg equivalents.

Combat role: Scouts, shock troops, airborne infantry.

Tactics: Vertical maneuvering, bypassing UNSC defenses using booster packs and natural flight capabilities. Extremely damaging to morale, hard to hit and hard to detect.

Equipment: Assault rifles, submachine guns, pistols. Weak armor and shielding. Booster packs.

Assessment: Moderate threat. Main damage is to UNSC morale. Engage with automatic, long range fire for maximum suppression and effectiveness. Deployment of sentry turrets and combat drones recommended, as computer targeting is more effective against such aerial targets.

NOTE: ALL ABYSSALS, WHEN UNARMORED, EXHIBIT HIGH VULNERABILITY TO HIGH TEMPERATURES. HELLBRINGER DEPLOYMENT HIGHLY ENCOURAGED.

Sir. That concludes my report on land based Abyssals. This report does not include all types, just those I could find enough info on. Sir, there are… disturbing parallels between these Abyssals and Covenant infantry, and even between them and human infantry. I… I don't like it, sir. It doesn't feel like a coincidence. They just don't feel right. I know you don't like me incoporating 'feelings' and 'spiritual bullshit' in reports, but I've found myself relying on feelings more and more in this war. These Abyssals don't follow logic like you and I know it. If you'll excuse me, I need to get good and drunk before I work on the next report. I'll be sleeping with a pistol under my pillow from now on.

-REDACTED-

/CLOSING FILE/

/OPEN NEXT FILE?/


	12. Chapter 11

/UNSC _INFINITY_ FLIGHTCOM/

/PRIORITY MEDEVAC - HANGAR A/

The flight crew of Hangar A weren't sitting around, exactly, but they didn't have much else to do. All fighters were launched, it would be a while before the first CAPs and strike groups came back in. They moved crates around, took inventory, cleaned and shined the floor, tested all their equipment, but that was all really just busy work.

"Ace?"

"Go fish."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too."

A sudden blare from the klaxons sent cards flying into the air. "What the s-"

"Attention! Attention! Emergency landing inbound to Hangar A! Repeat, emergency landing inbound to Hangar A! Priority medevac!"

"Aw, shit on a stick. You heard him! Look alive, people!" The card players scrambled to put away their game as the hangar dissolved into chaos. Lockers were broken open, damage control equipment prepared. Crates and vehicles descended into the subhangars, safely out of the way. Crash barriers snapped to life, as did landing lights.

Five hundred kilometers out, Amber registered red-line stress warnings in her port secondary thruster. Two seconds later, it sputtered, flamed out, and died.

"Dammit!" She quickly shut down her starboard secondary to retain balanced maneuvering capabilities, leaving her with only primaries. That in turn forced her to begin her deceleration run early, dumping all the fuel she had left into her reactor in a desperate bid to slow down before landing.

That plan went out the window as her engines, not designed to slow her and Autumn's five hundred thousand ton mass at once, died as well. She was stuck at 5 m/s.

She burned the rest of her maneuvering fuel, bringing her speed down to 4.9 m/s relative to _Infinity_. All she could do now was brace.

The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs. She'd tried to go for a more dignified upright landing, but the sudden blow tripped her up. She went rolling and sliding across the floor, slamming to a stop against the crash barriers. Autumn was right behind her, but as per her larger mass she broke completely through the energy fields, crashing into the rear wall and causing a sizeable dent in armor rated to stop a 50 megaton nuke.

Once the smoke cleared and the alarms stopped wailing, personnel rushed back into the hangar. A specially configured stretcher was brought in, and Autumn placed on top. Inertial dampers flicked on and the grav plating along their route was turned down, the combination of the two rendering her effectively near weightless and massless.

"Get her to sickbay, now!" The corpsmen pushed her into an elevator and disappeared from sight. Back in the hangar, several personnel crowded around Amber, trying to help her up.

"I'm fine, get off me!" She pushed them away and stood up, painfully. Damage reports filtered through her mind; she dismissed all of them. Her DC crews would fix what they could, the rest would have to take care of itself.

She made sure none of her weapons would go off by mistake, like that one time over Grevich. Poor _Diamond_ ; she'd nearly had a heart attack when her lock alarms went off.

"Ma'am? Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Yes. Everything's fine." She wanted so bad to run after Autumn, make sure she would be okay. But more likely than not, her presence would only interfere with the doctors' work. It didn't feel right, though, leaving her fellow ship alone like that.

 _Dammit! What should I do?_

Her dilemma was solved by the timely intervention of a deckhand. "Ma'am, just got word from above! Admiral Lasky wants to see you on the bridge."

"Thank you. Can you take me there?"

"At once, ma'am!"

* * *

Hikowa was not having a good day. First, she hadn't been able to get a ride back to the _Eternal_. Second, she was stranded on the _Infinity_. Third, she had to fix up yet _another_ shipgirl.

And finally, she was dealing with all of that while staring down a fucking _fairy_ , of all things.

"Look, I've done this before. Just let me through, and I can fix your girl up, okay?" She tried to bluff her way through the stubborn thing, she needed to get to her patient!

The thing continued to stare at her, arms crossed across its tiny chest, a miniature wrench in its hands. It didn't make a sound, but Hikowa got the feeling it would be yelling at her if it could.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in aggravation. "Well, what the hell _do_ you want me to do?" In response, the fairy pulled out a miniscule piece of paper and waved it at her. She plucked it from its hands with a thumb and a pinkie and held it up to her eyes. "This is… a blueprint. Do you have any fucking idea how small this font is? This shit is size 0.00001, at the most. And is that… is that goddamn Comic Sans?"

The fairy glared at her. She got the feeling it was just daring her to comment further.

"Okay, look, I'm not about to question your choice of fonts, however piss-poor it might be. Just… just show me where I need to cut and I'll cut there, okay? She's more hurt than whatever you have on board can handle." They both glanced over at Autumn, hooked up to a mess of IVs. Her various bio-monitors were slowly declining, her breaths coming slower and shallower.

The fairy nodded reluctantly, then hopped up onto Autumn's chest. Its weight was just enough to press down on her blood-stained shirt, highlighting just how large her… primary batteries were, especially in comparison to Hikowa's. She wiped the blush off her face and prepared her instruments. Around her, other medical personnel made sure support equipment was functioning properly. They'd back her up, but the main operation would be her responsibility. Unnoticed, a sweat drop ran down her face.

The fairy first pointed to a section above Autumn's stomach. Before cutting, Hikowa made sure the p-morphine drip was on full. With the drug coursing through her system, Autumn wouldn't feel a thing.

Her monoatomic carbon scalpel went in with no resistance, the one-atom wide blade making the cleanest cut physically possible. She held back the tissue with a clamp while another corpsman mopped up the blood. The fairy used a laser pointer - where'd it get a laser pointer? - to indicate where the damage was.

"We've got bleeding in the liver; give me the nanoinjector." She felt a device pressed into her hands. Holding it up, she checked that the nanobot injection device was pressurized and loaded. She pressed it to the injured region and squeezed the trigger. A brief burst of nitrogen propelled the payload into the tissue. The nanobots followed the chemical trail to the injuries and, reappropriating free floating molecules to their purposes, began putting them back together.

"Site One neutralized." The fairy swung the laser pointer to an area near Autumn's side. "Designate Site Two; cutting."

* * *

"Casualties on landing?"

"Higher than projected. Over 90 percent casualties across the board. Except… huh. 21st Company is nearly untouched. Would you look at that. Captain Armandez really knows her stuff."

"Good to know. Continue monitoring ground forces status, let me know if there's anything we can do." Lasky rubbed his eyes and turned away from the holo table. He blinked a couple of times, stretching and relaxing his tired retinas.

"Sir, In Amber Clad is at the bridge."

"Let her in." The armored bridge doors opened, admitting In Amber Clad, rigging and all.

"Admiral Lasky, sir!"

"At ease, at ease. Goddamn, I am tired of saying that." He eyed her numerous scrapes and the dents and craters in her equipment. "You look like hell. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Fine, sir. Damage control is taking care of it as we speak."

"If you say so." He paused before he opened up a hologram. "There's going to be a few Abyssal pictures in here. Are you going to flip out like last time?"

"No, I think that's over. Thanks for the warning, though." Lasky nodded, then gestured a few times. An image popped up: Bravo Six, shrouded in smoke. The image was unstable, bouncing around from explosions.

"What's this?"

"A recording from the Master Chief's helmet cam. We got the upload a few minutes ago." Amber watched with renewed interest. In all her career, she'd never actually gotten to see what it was like to be a ground-pounder.

Not that there was much to see. Even the high speed camera couldn't keep up with Chief's movements. All she saw were blood spatters, explosions, and the odd flying body part.

Eventually, the dizzying movement came to a stop. Chief looked down at an Abyssal in his arms and, with a single movement, snapped its neck. As if on cue, the doors of Bravo Six exploded off their hinges, accompanied by a shower of debris and bodies. Chief ran into the lobby, weapon drawn, but lowered it upon seeing nothing.

A marine poked his head above cover, lips moving in soundless pantomime. Amber found herself wishing the camera would record sound. Other marines popped up as well. Chief made his way over to a group of officers and saluted.

"The JCS. Good to see D'Orlean and Martinez got out okay. And the zoomie."

Somebody said something and the camera turned. Propped up against a piece of debris was a girl in her late 20s, wearing a tattered officer's uniform and covered in bruises.

"And pause." The video froze. "Okay. See that girl?"

"Yeah?"

"She claims to be CA-2, UNSC Everest." Amber sucked in a breath, stunned at the news. A Valiant class? What were the odds? "Can you confirm this?"

She looked closely at the picture. Her eyes beheld a girl, but saw, simultaneously, as if superimposed on her, a Valiant class supercruiser, battered and hurting but still standing proud.

"Yes. That's her." Lasky breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Why? Were you expecting something else?"

"Reports say that that girl took on a Champion. Single handedly. In melee combat. Not even a Spartan IV can do that, heck even a Spartan II would have a tough time. You can understand why I was worried."

"A Champion?"

"Imagine a Hunter, on steroids, in MJOLNIR armor, charging balls out for your ass, with two of the biggest claws you've ever seen. Then multiply that by ten, and boom. Champion."

"God." She took a closer look at Everest. She'd obviously been on the receiving end of quite a bit of punishment. "What's happening now?"

"I've dispatched a Pelican wing to extract them. Hopefully they'll be able to make it out. If not-" Amber felt herself shoved to one side as another officer ran up to Lasky. He whispered in the Admiral's ear, speaking in an urgent tone of voice. Lasky's face paled as he listened.

"Admiral? What's happened?"

"An Abyssal cruiser just appeared above Sydney."

"What? How? How did we not see it?!"

"Don't ask me why, all I know is our sensors are useless when it comes to Abyssals. If they don't want to be seen, we can't see'em."

He studied the readouts, shaking his head. "The fleet can't take it out. It's too close to the ground, collateral damage even from secondaries would be massive." The holotable updated, an image of an Abyssal cruiser suddenly appearing above the Sydney skyline. Amber saw fighter groups vectoring in towards the ship, attempting to take it out with minimal collateral damage. They were blown out of the sky, every last one of them. Ground based artillery and anti aircraft reached upwards before being shut down by precision bombardments. Frigates, the only ships with weaponry light enough to be used in atmosphere, made it within 1000 kilometers before vanishing in a flash of light.

"God help us all."

* * *

"What is that?"

"The thing that just shot our ride out of the sky. An Abyssal cruiser, no way in hell we're getting out of here now." The survivors of Bravo Six huddled in the ruins of an UNSC firebase, watching debris rain down. That debris was the remnants of the UNSC's attempts to eliminate the cruiser, still floating fifty kilometers above the harbor.

The marines helped what survivors they could find. The firebase had been pounded by salvo after salvo of artillery. The only remaining structure was a lone sentry turret, forlornly standing guard over the wreckage.

Other soldiers hauled broken down barricades and smashed crates into a serviceable defensive position. They salvaged what ammo they could and distributed it, giving priority to the marksmen. Barely enough rounds to fill a magazine, but even one bullet could make the difference between survival and death.

Everest lay on a wooden plank, being tended to by the medics. She'd passed out about half a mile back, finally succumbing to her wounds. The medics had improvised a stretcher for her, and she was now surrounded by a bona fide mosh pit of corpsmen.

The JCS, or at least those who were conscious, held a discussion off to the side. Martinez took a rather pessimistic view of their chances.

"I'm betting that Lord Hood is going to start busting out the orbital bombardments soon, collateral be damned. That cruiser is too big of a risk, and Sydney is expendable."

"Hell, he might even use this to get rid of a few rivals and pass it off as 'unavoidable casualties'," said D'Orlean.

"Now, wait just a minute! Admiral Hood isn't that kind of guy, he wouldn't think of it that way!" protested Kagome.

"Well, maybe he doesn't see us that way, but Osman?" Martinez glanced at the prone form of CINC-ONI. "Bitch's been on his 'to-kill' list ever since she came to power. I know she'd be on mine."

Their conversation was not meant to be overheard, but Chief's augmented senses picked up on it easily. He listened with half an ear, focusing on keeping watch. Already, Abyssal Ka type scouts were attempting to probe their outer perimeter. Silenced shots from a DMR put them down, but where Ka types went Wo's were soon to follow.

"Chief, southern perimeter secured. We've laid a few mines and the machine guns have a nice killbox. Sir, may I request permission to deploy chemical weapons?"

"Ask your CO."

"Sir, my CO is dead. You're ranking combat officer."

"Permission granted."

"Thank you, sir!" The marine ran off with a relieved look on his face. Chemical weapons were one of the few advantages the UNSC had. Sarin-C, Voxylin, Karytocin-S8, Formula G, all designed initially to be lethal to humans, had proven extremely effective against Abyssals. Further tweaks mitigated their effects on humans. Whenever possible, the troops would break out the HAZOP gear and start shooting canisters like there was no tomorrow. Already, as Chief watched, the marines were slapping on gas masks and readying trip mines full of Agent Green.

A distant explosion got their attention just before the wreckage of another drone slammed into the middle of their position. Before the sound of the crash dissipated, a new sound had arisen. An eerie, keening, wailing sound pitching up and down, louder and softer. The marines felt a shiver run down their collective spine as they felt the eyes of every single Abyssal in their vicinity turn to them.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name."

The Abyssals charged.

* * *

"Reloading!"

"Last mag!"

"Backblast area clear!"

The Abyssals blown up by the rocket were quickly replaced by their comrades behind them. Machine gunners burned their hands tearing off overheated barrels and snapping on replacements, firing until their ammo drums went dry. Clouds of gas floated over the battlefield, each bringing its own special kind of death. Assault rifles barked full auto, any consideration for fire discipline gone as soldiers fired point blank into the horde. Everybody who could hold a gun fired, from the Joint Chiefs down to the lowest private.

"Chief! Left side, look out!" He ducked instinctively, years of combat experience having taught him to listen to Cortana's warnings. A Wo's blade sliced through where his head would have been half a second ago. Chief came back up swinging, slamming the butt of his rifle into the thing's stomach. It doubled over, permitting him to stab his knife into the back of its head. As the alien fell over dead, he reloaded and kept firing.

Running out of ammo, soldiers pulled out combat knifes, hatchets, and makeshift clubs. They slashed Abyssals who got too close, driving them back and allowing those who still had ammo to pick them off.

"I'm out of ammo! Someone give me a weapon!" Firing with one hand, Chief picked up the Wo's crystal rifle and threw it to the marine. The man fumbled with the rifle, grimacing at the weapon's inherent _wrongness_. Marines are nothing if not adaptable, though, and the man quickly got over his discomfort and began sending crystalline death downrange.

 _Click_. The sound of a bolt hitting empty meant that his assault rifle was nothing but a fancy club. He threw it to the side, unsheathing his combat knife and drawing his pistol. Chief dashed into the fray, slashing, stabbing, shooting, carving a bloody swath through the Abyssals.

Such effectiveness came with a price, though. Even a Spartan II was only one soldier, and as the original Spartans at Thermopylae would have attested even a super soldier could be worn down through numbers. Chief found himself swarmed by cannon fodder, the sheer weight of the Abyssals clinging to him dragging him down faster than he could kill them.

Then they were gone, torn apart, 'chunky salsa' as some marines would have put it. He shook his head to clear his ears of ringing, the rest of his body stiff from his armor locking. Disengaging lock, he looked about for the source of the blast. He found it in Everest, sitting up on one elbow, the missile launcher on her right arm smoking. She gave him a weak smile and a wave. He nodded, then spun as Cortana warned him of a Ka type right behind him.

Everest turned her attention to other hard-pressed positions. Reduced-yield Archer missiles rained down, giving much needed breathing room to the marines. Explosions rippled through the Abyssals, tossing giblets and blood sprays in the air.

Despite all the ordnance now falling on the Abyssals, the marines were being overwhelmed. There were simply too many, a zerg rush taken up to eleven.

 _BWOM_

A bass filled rumble passed through the ground, throwing marines to the floor and rattling everything. The Abyssals paused and cocked their heads as one. Another rumble shook the earth, and they turned tail and ran.

Stunned at the sudden turn of events, the marines couldn't bring their weapons back to bear in time. They settled for taking a few potshots as the Abyssals rounded the corner. All was quiet for a few minutes before the marines started cheering.

" _Hell_ yeah!"

"Get some!"

"S'okay, I'd run from me too!"

"Come back any time!"

While the marines celebrated, Chief reloaded his weapons and took stock of the situation. _Something's not right_.

The sound started as a low whine, barely discernable over the marines' celebrations. It steadily grew louder until it overpowered their cheering. Noticing the noise, the soldiers stopped celebrating and looked around, confused. One private looked up and paled.

"G-guys…" His comrades looked over to see him pointing a shaking finger into the sky. They followed his finger, swinging their heads until they beheld the Abyssal cruiser, still floating above the harbor. The bottom of the cruiser was open and something within it glowed an eerie purple.

Cortana spoke, her voice tense. "Radiation and energy spikes in the cruiser. It's going to fire on the city!" The other soldiers were rapidly coming to the same conclusion. Their faces, jubilant just a few seconds ago, now filled with fear.

"Estimated blast radius?"

"Too large for us. If you lock up you might survive, but the others…" The soldiers' fear was slowly turning to panic, the prospect of sudden and inevitable death overriding discipline. Chief could see it in their eyes; training and instincts were battling, and instinct was about to win out.

"Oh God, oh God. We gotta get out of here!" The words snapped something in the soldiers. Some turned to run, throwing down their weapons to move faster. Others fell to their knees, staring at nothing. A few laughed, a humorless, mad laugh.

Unnoticed, Everest pushed herself onto her knees. Alarms and damage reports blared in her mind; she canceled them with a growl. _No time for that_. She balled her hands into fists, cracking her knuckles.

 _Alright. Two can play at this game._ With a grunt, she managed to plant one foot on the ground, followed by the other. Everest nearly stumbled while standing up but steadied herself on a concrete pillar.

She let a breath out, calming her mind and body. She spread her arms out in front of her and focused. Focused on the memory of her hull, her crew. The feeling of titanium slipping through the cold abyss. The jarring sensation of ripping the fabric of space time and jumping through the hole. The sounds of her crew working tirelessly to take care of her, to keep her running.

She concentrated on the memories of battle. Roaring fury at enemies only visible on a lidar plot, then transitioning to secondary duels at 50 kilometers. What it felt like when plasma burned through her armor belt, the sudden death of sailors sucked into the void. The agony of her reactor going beyond its intended limits, how she'd blocked out the pain and coaxed out just a little more power. How in her anger, she'd pushed her guns just that much harder. How that Covenant destroyer crumpled under the blows of her double MACs.

Everest opened her eyes, a new, but familiar, weight settling onto her body. Her main cannons rested on her shoulders, waiting for the fire command. The reactor on her lower back fed the massive thrusters on her ankles. Scorched and pitted titanium armor covered her torso and limbs, ending only to make space for the oversized Archer pods all along her arms. Railgun batteries charged up as PDGs loaded and engaged targeting protocols.

A marine, his rocket launcher abandoned and discipline gone in the face of imminent doom, ran for his life. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he crashed into a heavy metal object. He fell back onto his ass, holding his broken nose. Involuntary tears streaming down his face, he looked up to see what he'd hit. He would have fallen down again if he hadn't already been on the ground.

The impact of the marine hadn't even budged Everest, with her newfound mass. She'd felt the slightest of bumps on her chest. She looked down and into the marine's eyes, seeing awe and fear warring inside them.

Everest knelt down beside him, the rigging on her back creaking from the movement. Her wounds didn't bother her anymore; the rush of _power_ she'd felt nullified any pain her injuries were causing.

"Tell everyone to get as far away as they can. There's no time to waste." The marine nodded, hastily scrambling to his feet. Running away wasn't about to be problem.

The sound of feet told Chief that something was up. He turned to see a marine running towards him, one hand holding an obviously broken nose. "What is it, marine?"

"Sir! It's… I don't know! It's that girl! Some weird fucking shit is going on sir, she told us to get out of here and I'm listening!" With that, the man turned and sprinted away like there was no tomorrow.

"What… is that?" Cortana whispered in his helmet. Chief backed up a few paces, then decided that running was the best tactical option available to him. If there was one thing Chief Mendez had drilled into his head, it was that retreating when advisable was _never_ a bad idea.

Other soldiers took notice, gawking at the mass of metal now adorning Everest. They decided to heed the words of their comrade, and a stampede of marines and soldiers determined to set the galactic marathon speed record ran after him.

Everest stood up again, suppressing a grin. The feeling of once again having this much power was comparable to a drug high. She had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. If she'd known it'd feel this amazing, she'd have come back much earlier. With a thought, she could wipe out continents. A motion of her hand could savage fleets. If she so chose, she could destroy entire planets. She'd faced the Insurrectionists and the Covenant; these Abyssal bastards were nothing. Like all other enemies of humanity, they _would_ perish before her.

 _Archers hot!_

 _MACs ready!_

 _Secondary batteries primed!_

 _Awaiting your command!_

Her sensor arrays elevated and swiveled around. They began radiating, bouncing radar and lidar off of the cruiser. The returning data fed into her mainframes which churned out firing solutions. With a high pitched whine, her MACs swung to bear on target. The clank of metal on metal sounded as the rounds were shoved into the breeches. A faint smell of ozone told her the capacitors were at full charge.

Everest shut her eyes one last time, letting the data streams and status reports flow through her. In her mind's eye, everything coalesced into a single, shining word.

"Fire!"

* * *

Abyssal Number 66590 went through the final protocols for firing. The ventral projector hummed with anticipation, glowing blue from the plasma coursing through it. Magnetic fields warmed up, preparing to shape and guide the ionized gas. The Abyssal felt a faint sense of satisfaction. Finally, after so many years, it would have its revenge.

Until two tungsten slugs traveling at five times escape velocity smashed into its broadside on their way out of the atmosphere. The impact nearly rolled the cruiser onto its side. The energy projector discharged right as the shells hit, carving a trail through the harbor.

Abyssal Number 66590 reeled from the blow, its thrusters straining to keep it aloft. Where had that shot come from?! There were no human warships anywhere near, and ground forces did not have weapons that could do that! Putting its damaged computers to work, it tracked the trajectory of the projectiles, tracing them back to a single point on the ground. Its optics focused onto the location.

For a moment, its mainframes shuddered to a halt as Abyssal 66590 attempted to understand what it saw. A human girl, standing within an enormous crater, the collapsed ruins of several skyscrapers surrounding her. Smoke drifted up from the barrels of two cannons, resting on her shoulders. With a shiver, Abyssal 66590 realized the shots had come from her.

But how? How had she done what three human battleships together couldn't do? How had those shots penetrated its shielding and armor with such ease? For that matter, how had she targeted her weapons? Mundane sensors should have been rendered useless by the interference of the Outer Planes!

As Abyssal 66590 screamed inside its mind, it didn't notice the second volley approaching. When it hit, it didn't even have time to feel it.

* * *

Dawn hung around in low orbit, waiting for something to do. With the space battle over, there was nothing for her to do except keep out of the way. A fighter wing kept an eye on her from one thousand kilometers, and she made sure all her guns pointed away from them. Clouds of wreckage orbited at all altitudes, making her radar go crazy and giving her navigation crew anxiety attacks. She'd turned her radar and lidar off so that the damn pings wouldn't drive her crazy.

That's why she didn't notice the projectiles until nearly too late. "Eep!" Glowing white from contact with the atmosphere, they flew past not a kilometer from her port bow. "What the-?" Communication channels came alive with the annoyed shouts of ships maneuvering to avoid them.

Dawn swung herself to look down at the planet below her. Australia passed by lazily as her orbit took her past. Her computers traced the trajectory of the shells to an area around Sydney. What the hell was going on?

* * *

"Admiral Lasky, I am ordering you to commence bombardment!"

"Admiral Hood, if I do that, Sydney will be a crater!"

"If you don't, all of Australia is going to burn! It's the city or the continent!"

Amber stood awkwardly to one side as Lasky argued with Hood's holographic image. Functioning on ten minutes of sleep, overcaffeinated, and still coming down from battle shock, the normally calm Lord Hood was at the end of his rope. Lasky wasn't much better.

"Admiral. Lasky. You're ship is the only one with the ability to take out that cruiser in a less than five shots. Either you fire on it, or the rest of the fleet will. Which do you think will cause more damage?"

"Lord Hood, there are still UNSC personnel in Sydney! I cannot open fire in good conscience!"

A lieutenant, trying her best not to be noticed by the two admirals, suddenly clamped down on her headphones. "What? Wait… really? Hold on… yep. Holy shit." She turned and tried to get their attention. "Um, sirs?"

"The UNSC is not paying you to have a clean conscience! Fire!"

"Sirs?"

"And what if I don't?!"

"Sirs?!"

"We can afford to lose an admiral. Do you know of anyone who might deserve a promotion?"

"Sirs!"

"What?!" The lieutenant shrank back in the face of two furious admirals.

"Um… I'm sorry to bother you, but… the cruiser has been destroyed."

Lasky and Hood stared at her blankly. She wilted under gazes, desperately wishing just to sink into the floor. The bridge crew all found something in their displays exceedingly interesting. Amber shuffled her feet and engrossed herself in equipment checks.

"Repeat that, lieutenant."

"The Abyssal cruiser has been taken out by ground fire, sirs."

Hood scoffed. "Impossible. There is nothing on the ground heavy enough to destroy an Abyssal cruiser."

"Hold on. Look!" Amber pointed at the holotable. Lasky and Hood turned towards _Infinity_ 's battlespace display. Sure enough, as the hologram updated, the cruiser disappeared, replaced by a cloud of falling debris. The admirals stared, slack jawed.

"What… how?" Two new markers appeared, indicating unguided projectiles on an escape trajectory, followed by two more.

"Tracking those shots… got the origin." A red circle appeared around the harbor district of Sydney. The display zoomed in, the circle getting smaller as the computers refined their calculations.

"Hold up. Let me get an image…" The lieutenant selected the few satellites remaining in orbit and took over their systems. Simultaneously, several thousand people across North America suddenly found their 'Net connections cut. She then used their connections to access Sydney's camera network. Fiddling with the surviving cameras, she managed to get an image of the indicated location.

The display fuzzed out for a moment, before coming back into focus. A certain Valiant Class supercruiser stood there, arm outstretched. She stood in a crater created by the concussion of her guns as rubble fell all around her.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah. That is." Amber shouldered her way past Lasky to get a better look. In a four hundred meter radius around Everest, nothing stood. Leveled by the shockwave of MAC shells in atmosphere, only a few bits of metal still stuck up from the ground. Everything else was either in tiny chunks or completely dust.

Amber shivered at the sheer power that Everest wielded. If she could do this in atmosphere, with all the obstacles that presented, Amber shuddered to think what she could do when actually fighting.

* * *

The marines slowly poked their heads above cover. The city lay in ruins around them, the wreckage of the cruiser burning in the harbor. Everest gazed at the wreck, arms crossed over her chest.

The low whine of a Pelican caused them to glance into the sky. Several of the dropships angled towards them. A couple of soldiers lit off flares to better indicate their position.

A few marines walked carefully up to Everest, their movements hesitant as if she were a bomb about to explode. They stopped about five meters away from her.

"Um… excuse me, miss? Are you… are you alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm okay. How about you?"

The private had to swallow a few times before replying. "F-fine, thanks. Um… I… uh…"

She gave him a tired smile. "It's alright. I've got a lot of explaining to do, huh?"

A voice crackled over her radio. "That you do. Report to the UNSC _Infinity_ immediately. Admiral Lasky will be waiting for you."


	13. Chapter 12

/UNSC SUBSYSTEM: 1.3.123/

/AUTHORIZATION: ***********/

/BAFFLING: ENGAGED/

"And tell ONI to be useful for once, and keep the damn press away!" Hood cut his connection and turned back to his audience. "Sorry. Not even two days later and the newsies are clawing at the door."

"It's alright. They were like that back in 2540 too."

"Right. Because you know how it was back then. Right," said Hood, rubbing his temples to make this dream/nightmare go away.

Lasky pulled a sympathetic expression. "Sorry, sir. It's a lot to take in. Believe me, I'm still having trouble understanding."

"Right." Hood shook his head once more, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "Okay. Admiral Lasky? Give it to me once more. From the top."

"Sir, you have my repor-"

"I want to hear it from you, not from some blacked out, cut apart ONI scrapbook."

"Very well." Lasky cleared his throat. "Mind if I use that holotank?"

"By all means."

"Alright. Roland?" The AI appeared in a yellow flash. He clapped his hands twice, cueing the lights to dim, the hologram to flash and fireworks to burst. "Without the SFX, please."

"As you say, sir." The lights went back up and the effects disappeared. In their place was a simple Powerpoint. "It's all ready for you, Admiral."

"Thank you." Lasky walked to the front of the hologram. "One week ago, at 1435 hours, Reach was attacked by the Abyssals. The details of the battle are in the FLASHCOM I sent off, but the gist of it is that we were losing. As usual." The slide changed to a casualty list large enough to warrant a cropping.

"At 1946 hours, an unknown slipspace contact was registered by the UNSC _Scorpia_ , which was then destroyed. The commanding officer of the _Scorpia_ , Captain Garcia, was ejected into space. He was then rescued by Forward Unto Dawn." Lasky nodded at Dawn, who gave Lord Hood a nervous wave.

"Simultaneously, in the Horizon system, fleet assets were being engaged by Abyssal forces. They were on the verge of retreating when In Amber Clad appeared. Details are not clear, but coordinating with UNSC forces, she helped to repel the attack." Amber stood to attention as Hood's gaze swept over her.

"With the advice, assistance, and _full cooperation_ of Dawn and Amber," Lasky said, stressing the part about full cooperation, "We successfully…" He glanced over at the girls for help.

"Summoned."

"Summoned Pillar of Autumn." The girl gave the fleet admiral a weak smile, leaning on a pair of crutches. "And the rest, the recordings will tell you better than I could." Lasky ended the presentation and stepped back.

Hood remained silent for a while, staring at nothing. The four girls shifted uncomfortably under his blank gaze. Lasky surreptitiously checked his Patek Phillipe.

"Admiral Lasky." Lasky's focus came to front. "I'll be honest. If I hadn't seen the recordings myself, I'd have you Section Eighted. Hell, I'm not sure if you and I both shouldn't see the shrinks anyways."

"But I'm willing to admit this isn't all some surreal speed trip. I can accept that you four are the spirits of warships." His eye twitched as he said it, but he maintained his composure. "And I thank you for all your help."

"However, a question remains. What now?"

The girls looked at each other. A brief _you go no you go_ ensued, with Everest, sporting a fresh uniform, elected as unofficial spokesperson due to tonnage.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well…" It was like he'd just found a hundred creds on the street, but the stores were about to close. Like he saw an opening on the gravball court, but the shot clock was ticking. Like… ah, fuck this analogy.

Lasky came to his rescue. "We have a temporary advantage. The Abyssals are most likely in the dark as to what happened. However, if we don't strike and strike hard, they'll figure it out. Once they do… well, I'm not sure even you four could make much of a difference."

"Exactly. Thank you, Admiral Lasky." Lasky nodded and ceded the stage. "So. Proposals?"

…

"People. I only have so much time, and I-" Hood was cut off by a tiny squeak. All eyes snapped over to Dawn. She frowned, reached behind herself, and pulled out a fairy.

"What do you wan… what? Uh huh? Oh? Really? No shit? Is it even compatible? I… I'm not doubting you, it's… really now? That's how it works? Ooookay." Surreal conversation finished, she plucked something out of the fairy's hands. Satisfied, it poofed back to wherever fairies come from.

"Alright, so how does this…" In a flash of light, the object expanded into a full size data crystal, a Samsung-Mitsubishi DR-91 Quantum 8 exabyte, standard issue, to be exact. "Does anyone have a terminal handy?"

A muscle twitched in Hood's otherwise still face. Lasky, having long given up hope of understanding, took the crystal and plugged it into a nearby holotank. A new presentation popped up. "You want to do the honors, Dawn?"

"O-oh, of course, sir." She took Lasky's place in front of the projection. "Ahem. Okay, this was prepared by my XO. Completely his idea, I take no responsibility or ownership." The slide changed, this time a wall of Comic-Sans text. "Um… he proposes… shit."

"Let me try." Everest put her much more powerful optics to work. "He says… should I say what it actually says, or should I be polite?"

"What it actually says, if you please."

Everest took another look at the words and decided to give the summarized version. "In short, he wants to integrate us into the command structure, as little as necessary, and then, and I quote, 'let us fuck shit up.' Preferably the latter without the former."

The two men waited for her to continue. When she didn't, Hood looked about for something to slam his head into while Lasky just made another appointment with the psychiatrist. The fairy popped back into existence on Dawn's shoulder, gave a thumbs up, and went away.

"You're telling me to, with limited funds, time, and personnel, to completely overhaul the command structure of the UNSC Navy, and to create a new, independent command, sideline several projects. You're telling me to convince hundreds of senior naval officers to take my word that out of nowhere, we have a weapon more effective than anything in humanity's arsenal, only I can't show them it. You're telling me to turn the entire military on its head by introducing the concept of a sentient weapon?"

"... Yes?"

Hood turned to Lasky. "Get to it, Admiral. I want a formal administrative group formed at the end of the week. Shanghai as many resources as you need, I'm giving you all the authorization you need to do it. Anyone gets in your way, sic Section One on them."

Lasky raised an eyebrow. "Me, Admiral?"

"Yes, you. I've got my hands full fending off ONI and the politicos, keeping the the Navy in line and coordinating defenses across human space. I haven't got the time or resources to do something like this. Do you know how much political capital it cost me to get a basic command reshuffling in place?"

"Um…"

"I called in half the favors I was owed. Inconvenient staff officers were re-assigned and a few others had to disappear for a while. That's just resorting a local command. Try scaling that up to a fleet wide project and overhaul."

"So why are you asking me to do it?"

Hood smirked. "You're a wild card. You aren't a big player on the political stage. You'll be talking to the administrative division of FLEETCOM; incompetent politicos, every last one of them. To them, you're Admiral Lasky, the good soldier, not a serious power player. If anything, they'll figure that allowing this plan to go through will put you in debt to them. Now me, on the other hand… let's just say they'll be _much_ less willing."

That reasoning made Lasky's head swim, probably one more reason he'd never considered a career in politics. The girls, having remained silent throughout the whole back and forth, saw an opening to reinsert themselves.

"Um, what about us?"

"Admiral Lasky will have the framework for your new unit ironed out soon." Lasky shot a nasty look at Hood's back as he said it. "I'll get a full explanation from you later. Until then, report to Hangar B. Await orders there."

* * *

"Get those four planetside."

"Admiral Hood, with all due respect, they're way too vulnerable down there. There's still fighting in twenty major cities!"

"We've got fifteen more refugee ships coming in. There's warships and civvie craft everywhere. If we're going to keep this all under wraps, we can't just stick them in a hangar bay."

"Well, where're we going to keep them?"

"I happen to know a place. There's a platform in the middle of the Pacific. Isolated, far from fighting, a short hop from the Bairiki elevator. It'll do until the PR department figures out how to break the news."

"You're talking about Joint Base FARPOINT, right?" Hood glanced at Lasky out of the corner of his eye, slightly surprised. He hadn't realized the more junior officer knew about the old 22nd Century UN facility.

Lasky gave him a small smile. "You're not the only one with contacts, you know. I suppose you and I will be going there as well?"

"No. You'll be returning to the _Infinity._ I'll be heading planetside."

That stopped Lasky short. "What?"

"I'm going to have to deal with the press eventually. Figured I'd throw a bone to the reporters, if only to get them to go away for a bit."

"Why not your PR officer? That's what his job is."

Hood winced at the thought of sending that poor man in to face the press. PR officer he might have been, but they'd tear him to shreds trying to get to their real prize: Lord Hood. "No, better that I go. It'll satisfy them much more."

They came to a corridor intersection. "Well, I believe this is where I take my leave. If I'm not mistaken, we both have much work to do."

* * *

Lasky walked towards the docking bay, engrossed in a datapad. He slid icons around, typed out brief orders, and delegated certain tasks to subordinates. One of the nice things about command, he thought, was being able to tell other people to do things for you and having it be part of your job description.

"And finally… there. Bare bones taken care of. Make sure these messages get sent, Roland."

"Yes, si- look out!"

Lasky whipped his head up in time to crash his nose into another person. He fell with a grunt, datapad clattering to the ground beside him.

"Ohmygod, I am so sorry Admiral! Here let me help you, I'm so sorry please forgive meeeee…"

"It's alright, no harm done." He looked up to see an ensign, a mortified look decorating her face behind her hands. She quickly knelt down to help him up, also scooping up his datapad for him.

"Thank you, ensign."

She saluted and ran off, obviously terrified of his wrath. Lasky shook his head; was he really that scary?

"You alright, Admiral?"

"Fine, Roland." He dusted himself off and went on his way. "Okay… that should integrate them nicely. Just make sure this stays quarantined to the personnel on this list. Zero contact with anyone else, and that includes their families. If they protest, well… we have replacements."

"Certainly, Admiral."

He walked absentmindedly to the hangar bay and commandeered a Pelican. Lasky sniffed and wiped at his nose; the filtered metallic air always hurt his sinuses.

"Let's see… what to call it…" He looked at his list of names he'd hurriedly come up with.

"Fleet Auxiliary Personnel? Hm…" He suddenly paled and crossed the name off. He would not go down in history as the Admiral who'd named humanity's potential saviors the FAP.

"Project Shipgirl?" Forget the girls, he'd be laughed out of the fleet.

Several names later, Lasky stared down at the crossed out, blacked out, completely erased list. He really wasn't much good at this. Searching his brains for other options, he developed a deep sense of respect for the people who came up with names for the myriad projects of the UNSC.

"Admiral?" Even Roland's voice was a welcome distraction from his work.

"Yes. What is it?"

"I couldn't help but notice you were having some… creative difficulties, so I decided to rescue you. In my late night trawlings of the entertainment archives, I happened upon a certain 21st Century game. The premise was interesting, the art was amazing, the grind was agonizing, and t-"

"Cut the crap Roland, what do you have for me?"

He could see the yellow AI rolling his eyes. "Well, if you're gonna be like that, there was a certain word that seems especially relevant to our situation. Matter of fact, the entire game is pretty much an analogy for our current situation, but you don't want to know about that."

"And the word?"

"Kanmusu."

Lasky turned the word over in his head and on his tongue. It felt right in a way none of the other names had. "What does it mean?"

"Oh, there are plenty of translations. It's Japanese, you know. I personally take it to mean 'daughters of the fleet', although there are plenty who would contest that. In fact… hang on… hah! Take that, Internet!"

"Daughters of the fleet…?" He like the sound of that. "Very well." He wrote it down and circled it.

"Project KANMUSU is a go."

* * *

"Beijing, this is Tokyo. Washington's got the data. Out."

* * *

"So… you're Everest?"

"Seems like it." Everest turned around to face Autumn, still wheelchair bound. "And you are… I'm sorry. I… what's your name again?"

"Pillar of Autumn. You probably haven't heard of me, hm~?." Everest frowned, searching her memory banks for the name.

"No, I think I have. We served together… Halter V, right? I remember covering you after you took a couple of hits."

"Oh yeah." Autumn pulled a grimace at the memory. "That was pretty bad, hm~?"

"Yeah, I'll say. Sorry, I sort of lost track of you after that," she said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

Dawn and Amber kept silent, staring with awe at the cruisers. To frigates, cruisers were shining symbols of strength and elegance, what a frigate ought to aspire to be. To be in such close proximity to their senpais… it was all they could do not to ask for headpats.

The space elevator shook as the car entered atmosphere. The outside of the capsule began to glow red, but heat dispersion systems kept internal temperatures low. Even so, the speeds at which they descended rattled them around inside their safety harnesses. To their marine escort, this was nothing new. Aside from the usual complaints of how after _300_ , _fucking_ , _years_ , _they still didn't make a goddamn space elevator_ _ **that didn't shake them around like FUCKING DICE IN A MOTHERFUCKING CUP**_ , they didn't take notice of it.

For the shipgirls, however, especially Everest, who'd never been in atmo, it was a completely new experience.

"H-h-h-o-ow m-m-m-mu-ch-ch l-l-long-onger un-un-un-til we s-s-sto-p-p sha-sha-ki-king?!" Point in case, Dawn's question.

"H-h-have-n't yo-you d-d-done r-r-een-entry befo-fore?!" Amber.

"N-n-n-o-t-t l-like th-this!" Suddenly, the car stabilized and shaking ceased. They were temporarily weightless as the elevator disengaged grav brakes, but promptly slammed back into their seats when the maglocks snapped to life. The sudden shock nearly undid all the repairs Everest's damage control had managed.

Yes. Riding in a freight elevator was not the most pleasant experience.

Car Number 1024, Bairiki Pacific Space Tether, For Cargo Use Only, slid to a stop at the foot of the elevator. Airlock doors disengaged and its passengers stumbled out. Marines went first, cracking their backs and making sure no unauthorized personnel were in the area. The girls staggered out after them.

"Remind me, why did we take the freight car again?"

"Didn't you hear Lord Hood? A passenger car would have been too obvious, and the cargo lifts are faster anyways."

"Why does a freight elevator have seats anyway?!"

"For the operators, hm~?"

"Oi, mates, cut the chatter." A marine waved for them to hurry up. "We ain't got all damn day to get there."

"Wait, where're we going?"

"Didn't you hear?" The marine grinned. "You're on a flight straight to Joint Base FARPOINT, coach class."

"... my back just died."

* * *

"Project KANMUSU, eh? Lasky did always have a flair for names." Hood reviewed the progress summary Lasky had sent him.

The sergeant major took a peek into the press room. He whipped his head back immediately, blinking the spots out of his eyes.

"I just remembered why I don't like the newsies."

"Blinded you, didn't they?" said Hood, a sympathetic tone in his voice. Being CINC-FLT meant he had to deal with the reporters on a near weekly basis.

"Yeah. I'm going to need corrective surgery after this."

"I know a doctor." Hood pulled out his datapad and frowned as he checked the audience lineup. "Is it just me, or are there fewer reporters than we expected?"

"There was a big kaffeeklatsch over in Paris." The admiral grimaced. He'd seen the feeds, a mushroom cloud rising over the Seine. Needless to say, many reporters were now slowly cooling gas and plasma. "The ones here are the ones who couldn't make it."

"Send them my condolences." He glanced at the clock. "Here we go. Showtime."

* * *

Abyssal sub-captain 665190a, Wo type, was frustrated, or as frustrated as the semi-sentient creature could get. Its transport had been forced off course, and now it and its company was stranded on some island.

It aimed an angry kick at the body of one of the few humans it'd found. The barrel of its crystal rifle wasn't even hot - the shock troopers had done all the shooting.

Its subordinates had even less sentience than it, but they knew to get out of its way as it stomped down the beach. The wreck of the transport ship lay smoldering in the ocean 10 klicks away. They'd only managed to salvage eight small in-atmo transport fliers.

One of the Nu's under its command mustered the courage to approach 665190a. With a series of growls and chirps, it pointed out the tall-black-thin-line in the distance. 665190a turned and squinted. Indeed, off in the distance, a thin black line pierced the sky, going up as far as the optics could see.

665190a's primitive mind began to churn. It was not able to understand what is was seeing, but the over-captain had said that that structure was very important to the humans. And if it was important to the humans, it needed to be destroyed. 665190a quickly scanned the ether; as it though, no units were nearby, or if they were, they weren't linked in, and 665190 knew that not being linked into the Overmind, or at least an Undermind, was a bad thing.

That led to another thought process; if no units were around, then it was up to 665190a to destroy the structure. Its instructions stated specifically: if it was human, it was to die. 665190a did not know why it was important that this structure be destroyed; how could it have known that Bairiki Tether was the conduit for all supplies going to UNSC defensive efforts on the Pacific Rim when it didn't even know what a space elevator was? Or for that matter, space? Or elevators in general?

What it did know was that its eight fliers were suddenly relevant. A series of chirps communicated its desires to the Ka type under-captains, who began to herd the Nu's into position.

* * *

The press room was filled to capacity. Reporters stood shoulder to shoulder, holocams hovering overhead. The noise level, if possible, got even louder when the journalists caught a glimpse of Lord Hood. He walked out to the podium where his prepared statement, drafted by AI assistant, lay. Unseen by anyone, he also had pair of dark contact lenses on to provide some protection from all the flashes.

Hood stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat. Gradually, the shouting died down as the reporters waited for his statement.

"Good afternoon. As you all know, the fight against Abyssal forces continues across the planet. I'm sorry we couldn't conduct this conference in a more secure location, but all transport assets are being used. Make no mistake, we are winning, but I will need to keep this conference brief." A murmur went through the crowd. They didn't like it, but they understood. Even their insatiable appetite for a story didn't blind them to the war taking place not 500 kilometers away from them.

"You probably know that UNSC naval forces successfully crushed the Abyssal naval assault on Earth." Hood left out exactly how close it'd been, and the 87 percent casualties sustained by the Home Fleet. "What you may not know is that we also repulsed attacks on Horizon and Reach." With the heavy comm controls imposed by ONI and the speed of events, news of the attacks had not yet reached the general populace on Earth. As such, hands instantly shot up throughout the mosh pit. Hood waved them down. "No questions, please."

He cleared his throat again. Hood knew that he had to satisfy them soon, or they'd tear him apart, rank be damned. "We cannot reveal details at this time, but-" He paused and listened closely. Were those… sirens?

The sergeant major bashed down the door. "Marching Order!" He wrapped his arm around Hood and dragged him off stage, ignoring the startled cries of the reporters.

"Marine, what is happening?" said Hood. He had a feeling he already knew. Marching Order was not called for shits and giggles.

"Abyssal strike force inbound! They're sea skimming, and of course the fucking radar can't fucking see them!" He kicked open the exit, running towards a Warthog already idling on the road. A group of SPAAGs raced by, treads chewing up the instacrete. Several APCs followed them, ramming civilian vehicles off the street.

The driver caught sight of them. "Come on, come on, let's go!" Hood jumped into the passenger seat, the sergeant manning the gauss cannon. The driver didn't waste any time, flooring the accelerator and screeching off. Behind them, Hood could see the reporters also flooding out of the building, running for their transportation. The island was going into lockdown.

* * *

"What's that?"

The chaos of Bairiki International was overtaken by the wailing of a siren. Built to facilitate transportation to and from the space elevator and currently being used as a distribution hub for supplies streaming down the tether, the terminals were filled to capacity with personnel, equipment, supplies, and vehicles. All activity seemed to cease as the high pitched whoop of the alarm echoed through the halls.

The face of Dawn's marine escort seemed to lose all color. "Oh, shite."

"What's going on?!"

"Abyssal strike incoming, how the hell did they get past the patrols?!" Soldiers began to come out of their shock. A Mongoose barreled past Everest, followed by two Warthogs. Marines ran to and fro, carrying rocket and Hydra launchers. If she looked out at the tarmac, she could see Scorpions ramming aside aircraft to get to their positions.

"Out of the way!" Two soldiers hefting a M41 LAAG charged through, followed by an ODST with a Splazer. High pitched whines cut through the air as plasma cannons began charging, accompanied by the chak-chak of bolts being pulled back. Crates of weapons lay toppled, torn open in the mad rush to prepare defenses. Rockets, bullets, grenades, and demolition charges were passed out as quickly as they could be thrown to the waiting crowd.

"Fuck! Okay, change of plans. We need to get you four underground, now!"

"Huh?"

"We've got an Abyssal strike group inbound to the island. Radar pins them at twenty klicks and closing, they're gonna level everything taller than half a meter!"

"What?! What about everyone else?!"

"Standing orders are only _you_ matter to us! Far as we're concerned, they're dead already!"

As they talked they ran and shoved their way through the crowd. "There should be basement access up ahead…" The marines came upon a dozen civilians trying to crowd into a metal doorway. Ruthlessly, they shoved the civilians aside, leveling weapons at those who dared protest.

"Please! Let me get my family in there!"

"Stand! Back!" The civilian got a rifle butt slammed in his face courtesy of a marine, who then pulled the door shut.

"What's going to happen to them?"

"Atomized if they're lucky, burned to death if they're not." The dark stairwell was flooded with light as the marines lit their flashlights.

"We've got closed loop air supply cycling systems in here, we should be okay even if they drop incendiaries or chemweps."

Autumn stopped at the top of the stairs. "Drop? You mean an airstrike, hm~?"

"Yeah, then infantry. Why…" The sergeant saw the looks on their faces. "Oh God. Please don't tell me…"

"Hey, Dawn, we've got point defenses, hm~?"

"Yeah. They're small enough to work in atmo too, I just checked with my chief."

"Mmhm. Then I think that you're thinking what I'm thinking, right?"

"Eeyup."

The sergeant looked hopelessly at the other marines. "Well, might as well shoot ourselves now. It'll be less painful than whatever Lord Hood'll do to us."

* * *

Abyssal Ka-type 90912322c tapped the barrel of its plasma accelerator. It checked the cooling vanes once more, as it had been trained to do from its creation. It did not know the purpose of those hard, shiny flaps sticking out from the side of the thunder-stick. It only knew that it was supposed to check them, and its barely-sentient mind understood orders.

From what sub-captain 665190a had said, there would be little opposition from the enemy. That was good. 90912322c didn't like being shot at.

And so 90912322c was extremely surprised when the first tungsten penetrator tore through the flier, followed by a stream of the dense shells. A gurgle told it that 4412399, the flier's pilot, was dead.

Fire and smoke began to fill the interior of the craft. A quick glance around told the Ka that most of its platoon was dead or dying and that it would not be long for the world either. A final stream of shells cut through the power plant, detonating it and blowing the flier into fragments.

The soldiers stared at the slowly descending fireball, fingers slack on their triggers. They'd been preparing to hold off the strike with what little AA they had, knowing that their light anti-aircraft guns and rocket launchers would do little against the heavy transports of the Abyssals. SPAAGs sat around the airport perimeter, acting as force multipliers with their 37mm cannons, but even they could do very little. From bitter experience, they knew that anything below 40mm was unlikely to even scratch Abyssal armor. The damned aliens seemed to be resistant to human weaponry.

Unexpected help came in the form of a door being kicked off its hinges. A group of girls had rushed out, followed closely by a group of marines. There'd been much protest and consternation among the soldiers, but the marines' reassurance had kept them back.

Naturally, there'd been a bit of judicious panic when they summoned their rigging. Nothing violent, but when one sees a fusion reactor, several gun turrets, missile pods, and rocket thrusters appear out of thin air one tends to shut down a bit.

Of course, any objections that might have been raised died when hypersonic magnetically accelerated 50mm ferric tungsten carbide armor piercing high explosive cored shells slashed through the approaching dropships, dropping them like flies.

The sudden roar of the cannons, never meant to be fired in atmosphere, deafened several soldiers and knocked others onto their rears. Most simply stared, gaping at the power being put on display. Chainguns, missile batteries, quad-mount sentry turrets, mobile plasma lances, all lay silent, suddenly unneeded.

The last dropship fell from the sky, a greasy fireball marking where its power core had detonated. Nobody spoke, the echoing thunder of four CIWS suites firing simultaneously in atmo the only sound.

"Holy crap."

The words broke the spell that had taken hold of the soldiers. A resounding cheer went up, expressing the joy only experienced by those who've had death sentences suddenly commuted.

"Hell yeah!"

"That's right, motherfuckers!"

"How'd you like a taste of your own shit?!"

"Semper Fi, bitches!"

Their celebrations turned to the four girls, their gun barrels still smoking. Marines swarmed them, pounding their backs, shaking their hands, enveloping them in gigantic group hugs. The cruisers disappeared under a pile of urban camouflaged armor. Dawn noticed her fellow frigate's discomfort and managed to keep them from making too much contact with Amber, but the ecstatic soldiers were not to be denied. They didn't know who their saviors were, but that didn't mean they weren't about to show their gratitude, marine style.

Everest finally manage to create a bit of breathing space for herself. She glared over at her escort; they were supposed to prevent something like this from happening! The marines just grinned and shot her thumbs ups.

"Assholes." She shook her head and turned to survey her fellow kanmusu. Autumn was in the process of refusing several drink offers and turning down dates. Dawn and Amber were nowhere to be seen, presumably crushed under that mound. Everest made a mental note to dispatch a SAR party when possible.

She turned to the smiling crowd in front of her. "Alright. Thank you very much for your hospitality." That got a round of chuckles. "But back to business." The smiles disappeared instantly, replaced by groaning. "Are there gonna be any more of those fuckers coming in?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the smouldering piles of wreckage.

A soldier looked down at his mobile radar set and shook his head. "Nope. No visual contacts and this shitty piece of kludge corroborates. Still, don't take my word for it, this thing couldn't pick up an Abyssal at half a meter."

 _Agreed. Nothing showing up on scans._ She nodded at the fairy's words. Still, something felt off. There'd just been too damned few of them. It was almost too easy.

"Though now you mention it, I swear I saw more contacts." Everest bit her lip. More contacts? Where could they be…?

"Oh fuck. Isn't Lord Hood briefing the newsies at the complex?"

The temperature dropped to absolute zero. Dawn and Amber broke through the huddle, gasping and shivering. As soon as they felt the atmosphere, they immediately dove back in.

"We need transport, now."

A sergeant stepped forward. "I've got Hogs warmed up and ready to go."

"Get us over there." Everest sent her rigging back to the dimension it came from, thousands of tons of mass dissolving into thin air. Autumn did so as well, sending several marines stumbling backwards. Dawn and Amber poked back out tentatively, following her example.

A path cleared before her as she ran towards the waiting Warthogs. Old vehicles, but there was a reason they still served on the frontlines. Their frames barely protested as Everest jumped onboard. A marine took gunner, the familiar clack-clack of the bolt bringing a smile to his face. He wrapped his fingers around the triggers, the familiar feeling of the gun settling onto his shoulders.

"Warthog run's just getting started!"

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… CMPNY CMDR/

/ACCESS GRANTED… DIRECT LINK STARTED/

Blood spattered as the optics as the crystal pierced the soldier's cranium. The helmet bounced along the ground, rolling to a stop behind a burning Warthog. Lord Hood crouched there as well, magnum in hand.

The helmet came to a stop against his ankle. He looked down, grimaced, and pulled the ID chip from the back of the helmet. He'd make sure that Private Karim's sacrifice was remembered.

Another stream of crystals shattered against the twisted chassis, prompting the admiral to snap off a few shots in return. He didn't expect the bullets to hit anything, merely wishing to keep their heads down.

 _CRUMP_

A shell exploded, blowing a crater in the middle of the road. The daisy cutter round sprayed shrapnel everywhere, gutting anyone not in cover like a fish. Their screams would be with Hood forever.

The sound of running was Hood's only warning before someone dove into cover next to him. He twisted around, expecting one of the marines to be there. Instead, he met the grim, bloodied face of one of the reporters.

"If you're looking for an interview, now's a bad time." Hood barely flinched as a plasma bolt streaked overhead.

"Interview? Nah, they're tryin' to flank left. Figured this here Hog made for better cover." She grinned at his confused look. "Twelve years in the Rangers. Hope I'm not too rusty." A grenade bounced against the wreck and exploded.

"Do you have a weapon?" Another mortar went off, pounding the rubble.

She raised an SMG as a flurry of crystals shattered against the ground. "Right here." She declined to say where it came from.

"Good." A burst of plasma burned a hole through the Warthog. "Any grenades?"

A pair of 120 mm rockets flew past and detonated. "Two. Got a plan?"

Chaingun fire chopped apart a group of Nu's trying to push up. "We need to fall back. Throw them over to the left, over there." The reporter nodded, readying the frags. "Once we're moving, don't stop." He pointed to the SMG. "Keep firing with that bullet hose."

"Got it. On three?"

"One, two, thr-" Just before he reached three, the growl of a Warthog reached his ears. Several Warthogs. "What?"

The noise turned into a vehicle as a Warthog ramped over a broken chunk of road and came crashing down on a group of Abyssals, its occupants firing every which way.

"Get off the road, bitch!" One of the riders yelled, before a rocket hit the Hog and flipped it into the air. The poor marines were instantly gibbed, but behind them came three, then four, then five more Warthogs. Chainguns, gauss turrets, rocket pods, and plasma cannon spat in all directions, obscuring the Abyssals with fire and explosions. The drivers hit the handbrakes, screeching and fishtailing to stops that barely avoided flurries of return fire.

Soldiers clinging to the sides of the vehicles jumped off, dashing for cover while the Abyssals were still suppressed. As soon as their passengers were away, the drivers gunned the engines, maneuvering wildly and running down any Abyssal they could find.

Autumn jumped down from the passenger seat, adrenaline and damage control mitigating the pain from her injuries. One Ka barely had time to squawk before it was swept off its feet and stomped to the ground. The three Nu's it was leading backed up in alarm and straight into Everest's shoulder charge. Dawn and Amber hung back, opting to take potshots with borrowed DMRs, their light hulls being unsuited for brawls such as the cruisers were engaging in. In any event, their powerful optics allowed them to land headshot after headshot.

665190a stared in disbelief. Its forces were being massacred by these newcomers! It knew that the only other substantial concentration of human forces anywhere near was at the flier-hub, and it had dispatched a strike group to eliminate them. What was happening?

A tingling feeling told it to duck, and a fist swung through where its head had been half a second ago. It countered, drawing its energy blade and slashing upwards. The vicious counterattack forced its assailant back, and 665190a pressed its advantage.

Autumn ducked, dodged, and weaved, cursing the mass of her armor belt. Cruisers were brawlers, not ninjas! She winced as the glowing blade nicked her cheek, then jumped back to avoid a slash at her gut. Autumn looked for an opening, a mistake, any way she could regain the advantage, but this Abyssal was performing some damn fine swordplay.

665190a growled in satisfaction as its opponent fell back. Its plan might be ruined, but it would still kill those who'd foiled it. This female was proving surprisingly capable, but he could see it tiring.

"Ga-!" A recently healed wound in her leg made its presence known again, and her leg collapsed under her, just as the alien lunged forward. Her sudden fall ruined the strike, and instead of piercing her chest it merely cut the side of her neck.

 _Power conduit five severed! Diverting cables, sealing breach!_

Damage control quickly stopped the bleeding, but the harm was done. When her vision cleared, the Abyssal stood over her, blade poised to plunge into her stomach. She swore she saw it grin.

"No!" A blur of color, and Amber was wrapped around the thing's waist, tackling the taller being. The impact stunned both of them, but the Abyssal recovered quicker and had her pinned in a flash. Its full ire was turned against this new opponent; how dare it interrupt its victory?!

"Hey, don't turn your back, hm~?" A foot planted itself in the small of its back and it went flying into a wall. Its scream of pain was choked off by a mouthful of instacrete; what kind of strength did that thing have?! It felt like its spine was broken!

Autumn walked over to her prostrate opponent. It glared at her, scrabbling weakly for its sword. She sent the blade spinning away with a casual kick, then planted her foot on its hand. The Abyssal screamed once more as the bones in its wrist broke.

She shook her head at her foe's pathetic state. "Really now. I'm the Pillar of Autumn, Halcyon Class Cruiser C-709. I destroyed four Covenant cruisers on my own. I destroyed _Halo_. Tell me." She leaned in close. "What made you think _you_ could beat _me_ , hm~?" Amber looked away as she raised her foot.

 _Crunch_

* * *

Hood surveyed the wreckage. Soldiers collected the bodies of both allies and enemies. The fallen humans were placed down gently, almost reverently, and covered with the flag of the UNSC, while the Abyssals were chucked into a pile for the Hellbringers to take care of.

The kanmusu pitched in as well, using their enhanced strength to shift rubble off the road in preparation for Pelicans to evac the wounded. They pulled slabs of instacrete into position, allowing Warthogs to tow them away. Sappers used demolition charges to blow the chunks into bits, to be recycled later.

 _Damn. The_ one _time I give the press what they want, this happens. I'm letting my PR officer handle them from now on._

Sensing someone behind him, Hood turned. A couple reporters stood there, staring at the four kanmusu. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Who… who are they?"

He'd wanted to keep it under wraps for just a little longer, but Hood supposed that now was as good a time as any. _Hell, it might even be a bit of PR victory for us._ He cleared his throat and straightened his uniform.

"You'll recall how I was so rudely interrupted during our conference." That got a round of tired chuckles from them. "Well, I didn't get a chance to tell you something very important. The UNSC now has a program we believe could change the tide of the war." He beckoned for the shipgirls to come over.

The reporters looked confusedly from Hood, to the girls, and back to Hood.

Dawn nervously twirled her ponytail.

Everest cracked her knuckles and grinned.

Amber gazed at them, her face a mask.

Autumn cleaned the Abyssal off her boots.

He waved his hand over them. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, the first four members of Project KANMUSU."


	14. Chapter 13

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/SECURE MESSAGING SUBSYSTEM/

/MESSAGE DELIVERED/

"Die motherfucker die!"

The SAW chattered, cutting down Abyssals like chaff as they came into the lobby. The atrium of the former UN New York Headquarters, now home to the High Court of the UNSC, was carpeted with the bodies of both friend and foe. Every weapon the marines could get their hands on, from law enforcement stun webs to plasma bolters to experimental meltaguns, fired in an attempt to slow the tide.

A sudden whoosh, and a squad of marines was gone, vaporized by their own weapon before they'd had time to scream. The cooling coils on the meltaturret had failed, reduced to so much glowing slag. The power cell followed soon after, and the resulting fireball blew a hole in the barricades, allowing the Abyssals to swarm through.

Captain Armandez ducked as a beam rifle ionized the air over her head. She replied with blind fire from her assault rifle, spraying shots towards the doors. Her last grenade followed, the sound of the detonation lost amid the cacophony.

A notification popped up in her eyepiece, the pleasant chime nearly drowned out by weapons fire.

"Fuck." She dropped to her stomach and toggled the message. "What is it now?"

"Captain!" The bloodied face of one of her marines appeared. "We're falling back, we've lost the South Plaza! We-Aaaargh!" Several crystals sprouted from his chest and he fell to the ground before the feed cut off. The building shook; the marines at the South Plaza must have detonated their area denial charges.

"Damn!" She emptied the rest of her magazine, then toggled her radio. "Where's my damn air support?!"

"Shot to hell and blown to bits! Huge AA concentration in Times Square, it's knocking the flyboys out of the sky!"

"Well, do something about it! We can't hold on much longer!"

"We're try- INCOMING!" The radio snapped off with a static hiss.

"FUCK!" Armandez slapped a fresh mag into the rifle and hosed a group of Nu's trying to flank. In a more subdued voice, she muttered, "At least this can't get any worse."

 _CRACK_

The roof splintered as a massive object slammed through it. When the dust cleared, a Re-Class champion roared its fury at the defenders.

"You just had to open your mouth, didn't you, Captain?"

The monster charged. The line broke, marines screaming and running for their lives. The Champion caught up to them, tearing them apart and tossing bodies like ragdolls. Armandez dove to the side, dodging it like a matador would a bull. She came up firing, pumping mag after mag into its back, along with everyone who could still hold a gun.

Naturally, it did jackshit. She doubted the Champion even noticed the small-arms fire, much less was harmed by it. Hard experience had shown the UNSC that very little short of tank could stand up to one.

"Backblast area clear!" A marine jumped up, holding a RPG. Everything slowed down as Armandez whirled around, reaching out in a futile attempt to stop the man.

"No! Don't do i-"

FWOOM

The disposable launcher belched fire and smoke, sending its payload on its deadly course. The unguided projectile spun in flight, retracted fins popping out and stabilizing it, a trail of smoke following it as the chemical motor combined ammonium perchlorate and aluminium powder to produce a blinding reaction that imparted over 300 meters a second of velocity to the warhead. The shaped charge payload at the tip of the rocket detonated a microsecond after the tungsten carbide penetration tip impacted, releasing a hypersonic jet of superheated molten metal against the Abyssal's armor.

The alien stumbled, a patch of its back armor suddenly blackened and smoking. Slowly, it turned, eyes burning with fury. It looked about the room, searching for the one who'd hurt it. Its magma-red eyes locked onto the marine holding the smoking launcher.

"Oops?"

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/SECURE MESSAGING SUBSYSTEM/

/MESSAGE DELIVERED/

"And that's the last."

The sterile field hummed, killing off any bacteria that might have infiltrated the medical ward. The surgical bay of the UNSC _Infinity_ resembled a horror show more than anything, blood covering the tables underneath the broken bodies of the wounded.

Hikowa let out a sigh as she cleaned her hands off. Despite their best efforts, more than a few of the injured had died of their wounds. The piles of body bags lining the walls were testament to that.

"Hey, Hikowa, nice work." She glanced up at her fellow corpsman. He frowned at her. "When was the last time you took a break?"

"Uh…" She couldn't remember. "I don't know."

"Fuck. You're pushing yourself too hard. Again."

"Couldn't stop… work to do." He shook his head.

"Goddammit, Hikowa. Nobody's expecting you to save them all, you know."

"I…" She tried to protest, but her vision went black. The next thing she knew, the corpsman was leaning over her, yelling for help.

"Hey! Someone get over here!"

"Wha… what?" Startled, he stumbled backwards before catching himself.

"Oh, Jesus! Don't do that, Hikowa!" He helped her to her feet, where she leaned against the wall, trying to convince her mind it wasn't the universe's personal drumset.

"Hey, listen to me." She shook her head and refocused on the corpsman. "Get. Some. Rest. You've been going for fifty fucking hours without sleep. You're no good to anyone dead on your feet." She opened her mouth to protest but was cut off. "No buts. Do I have to make that an order, Hikowa?" She shook her head. "Good. I'll get Sarah to make sure you actually get back to your cabin. I don't trust you not to find a way to work yourself to death."

He let go of her shoulders, backing away slowly to make sure she stayed there. Not that she could have moved, even if she wanted to. Fifty hours of stimpacks and caffeine was catching up to her, and she could feel the crash coming.

The corpsman turned to leave, but glanced back over his shoulder. A sad smile crossed his face. "You know, it's alright. Nobody blames you for Haspyria. Stop beating yourself up." He then ran off to find Sarah.

Hikowa slid down the wall and sank to the floor, burying her face in her knees. She gritted her teeth, trying to fight off the waves of fatigue she'd come to associate with stim crashes. The combat drugs weren't widely used for a reason. In a vain attempt to get back to her feet, she grabbed onto the rounded edge of a counter, but ended up slipping and faceplanting. There she stayed, the cold and sterile titanium feeling as comfortable as a hotel bed to her exhausted body.

"Hey Hiko- oh crap. Hikowa, what the fuck did you do this time?"

"I'm fine." That's what she intended, at least. It came out more as "Eerm fern."

Sarah sighed and knelt next to her. "You're a goddamn mess. Here, give me your arm." Without waiting for permission, she heaved Hikowa's arm across her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you back to our quarters." With practiced ease, she dragged Hikowa's insensate form out of the infirmary and down the hallway. Passing personnel didn't even spare the familiar sight a glance.

"What was it this time? Pee-phetamines? Pyschup? Hype-juice?"

"Stimpacks."

"Oh, come the fuck on. I expected a little better of you, girl. Stimpacks? Don't you know how bad those are?"

"Yeah, yeah, save the preaching, I had work to do."

"You're barely coherent," she observed. "You're a mess, you haven't eaten, and- ugh- do you know how _bad_ you smell?" Indeed, if looking from above, one would have seen anyone who came near keeping a five meter radius from the pair. A passing squad of marines gagged and slapped on respirators, the overpowering smell of death driving even the veteran soldiers to the sweet escape of bottled atmosphere.

"Mm." Hikowa was too tired to care. Sarah could lecture all she wanted, she didn't know what it was like to be the only corpsman caring for ten thousand civilians.

"And here we are." The door to their shared quarters opened, allowing Sarah to drag her inside and toss her onto the bed. "I'm going to get you some system flushers and some food." She pulled Hikowa's bloodied uniform jacket off and tossed it in the laundry bin. "Now, and I'm serious, fucking sleep. If you set one foot outside this door, I'm going to tie you to the fucking bed."

She stepped out the door, then turned to take one last look at her. "Seriously, stop doing this to yourself. Nobody blames you. Why do you still blame yourself?" Her voice broke a little on the last word, and she quickly backed out and closed the door.

Hikowa stared at the bottom of the top bunk, listening to the sounds of the _Infinity_. The events of the past week nibbled at the edge of her consciousness, threatening to completely overwhelm her. She resisted the urge to break down, willing her mental barriers to stay strong. There would be time for that later, when she didn't have work to do.

She cracked a wry smile at her friend's words. "Sleep. You know I can't."

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/SECURE MESSAGING SUBSYSTEM/

/MESSAGE DELIVERED/

"If there's anything at all that I can do to help, let me know."

Captain Khalid nodded before cutting the connection. Captain Garcia sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"Fuck, I'm useless." Ever since he'd lost contact with the four kanmusu, he'd been walking the corridors of the _Eternal_ , searching for any news of his charges. He'd had shit for luck so far. Everybody he'd talked to had either given him a strange look and walked away or laughed in his face.

So he was now sitting in his borrowed cabin, waiting for someone to give him orders. More likely than not, he'd just been lost in the administrative shuffle. Someone would probably remember him in a few months.

He slid the cap off his head and placed it on the desk. In hindsight, his circumstances could have been much worse. At least officer's quarters had a private washroom and desk. He'd been able to shower, shave, and manage to feel vaguely like a human being.

And now there was absolutely nothing to do. Not even make-work. The only thing that'd been on his to-do list had been to check up on the now-former crew members of the _Scorpia_. They were scattered across the fleet, filling for various absences in the personnel rosters. Lieutenant Chu was acting Nav-officer on the _Cassiopeia_ , Lieutenant Stavros was acting Tac-officer on the _Ad Victoriam_ , Lieutenant Breda was pulling Flight-Com on the _Running Riot_ , just to name a few. Apparently, the system hadn't gotten around to relieving him of his command.

"Fuuuuuuu…" The expletive came out as more of a sigh. He fell back on the bed, letting his body bounce on the mattress. Garcia pulled out his datapad, scrolling through the news feeds for updates on the battle.

"... nuclear detonation in Rome, UNSC for…" _Click_

"... th Army stalled in New Mombasa…" _Click_

"... to Tether on verge of collapse…" _Click_

"... Vancouver reactor critical…" _Click_

Too much bad news, and no good to balance it out. Garcia killed the feeds and tossed the pad onto his table. "No point in staying up." He sank into the pillow. As long as he had nothing to do, he might as well get some rest.

* * *

The Champion began to lunge, but suddenly stopped. It tilted its head, almost like a dog listening to something unfamiliar. Then, its eyes widening, it scrambled backwards.

A streak fell from the sky and slammed into the Abyssal, sending it skidding backwards. While the alien tried to pry itself out of the granite, two more objects descended into the dust filled room. An eerie blue glow pierced the murk.

"Stand back. We've got this." The terse voice came over the airwaves before the three newcomers flew into action. Flashes of small arms fire lit up the hall as they sprang towards the Abyssal. The original assailant slowly rose, electricity crackling around its obscured form, before pulling a long object from its back.

The blast from the rocket launcher cleared away the smoke. A Spartan IV lept and boosted, barely dodging a swipe of the Abyssal's claws. The supersoldier landed beside Armandez, skidding across the floor. It slammed its fist into the ground, stopping its slide. Then, with a burst from its thrusters, the Spartan charged back into the fight.

A lunge caught another Spartan mid-reload, knocking off his helmet and blowing him into a wall. He struggled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth, and pulled something from the sheath on his back. The roar of the weapon accompanied the sound of grinding metal as he used the powersword to parry a downward hammer blow.

The first Spartan cast aside the rocket launcher, out of ammo. It looked back at the marines, standing still with shock. "Give me a weapon!"

One of the marines unfroze and threw his railgun over to her. The Spartan caught the magnetic weapon, nodded her thanks, then fired the high explosive tungsten slug into her opponent.

The third Spartan opted for a heavier approach, ripping a gauss turret off its stand. The air shook as round after hypersonic round left the barrel, screaming bloody murder on its collision course with the hated enemy.

The combined gauss and railgun blows stumbled the alien, still engaged in a war of wills with powersword Spartan. It reeled back just a bit, just enough to give its opponent the tiniest bit of leverage. But the tiniest bit was all the supersoldier needed.

With a final, metallic shriek, powersword Spartan pushed the Abyssal away and rolled to the side. He came up beside it and, with a yell of fury, shoved the spinning blade into a gap in the alien's armor.

Its scream of pain nearly drowned out the sounds of combat. The alien writhed in agony, clawing at the object tearing into its body. The Spartan held on with grim resolve, driving the sword to the hilt. In its convulsions, the alien exposed its unarmored portions, opening itself up to damage from the other Spartans. They quickly took advantage of its kindness, slugs ripping through flesh and exploding within.

Marines joined in, pumping every last round in their weapons towards the Champion. There was no concern for fire discipline, only an overriding, all-consuming desire to get that thing on the ground as soon as possible. Ever so slowly, twitching, its lifeblood pouring onto the cold granite, the Abyssal slumped to the floor, the fire in its eyes going out.

Powersword Spartan pulled his weapon out, revved the motor, then plunged it once more into the Abyssal's neck. Putting his full weight onto the weapon, he drove it through the thick flesh, neatly severing the head. He hefted the massive cranium with one hand, sword in the other.

Despite having just killed off one of the strongest Abyssal land units in existence, his comrades didn't seem to be tired or at all fazed. The other Spartans were busy helping the marines repair defenses and rescue the wounded. As Armandez watched, one of the supersoldiers lifted with one hand a pillar that five marines had failed to budge. Another put his MJOLNIR armor to a more mundane use, using ground pound to shove aside a Warthog jammed into a doorframe.

"Are you the CO here?" Cursing her inattentiveness, she turned to find one of the Spartans in front of her, still holding that blade. When had he gotten behind her? And, more importantly, why did he have a powersword and how could she get one?

"Yeah, why?"

"Withdraw from this location. HIGHCOM has declared this section of New York lost beyond practical recovery, saturation bombardment commences in two hours."

It took a few seconds for that to process. "What?! Oh, my God." Armandez took a breath to calm herself. "Do you know how many people we've lost holding this place?!"

"Air assets are inbound, ETA twenty minutes. Get your people together."

"You can't be serious! We're just gonna _abandon_ our position?!" After losing hundreds holding the building, they were simply going to _leave_ it?

"Orders are orders, ma'am." With that, the Spartan turned and marched off, leaving Armandez sputtering in impotent rage.

One of her marines carefully approached her. From bitter experience, he knew that officers often took out frustrations on their subordinates. Many hours spent cleaning the spotless corridors of warships stood testament to that wisdom. "Uh… Captain?"

"What?!" Armandez nearly yelled at the man, instantly regretting it when he shrank back, quivering.

"I-I just wanted to know… uh… wha-what are your orders, Captain? Sorry…" He cringed, expecting the wrath of his CO to fall upon him.

Armandez sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Was I being an ass again?"

"Yeeenooooyeeess?"

"I apologize." She shot a glare at the back of the Spartan. "Get everyone geared up and ready for evac. We're pulling out."

"Pulling out? But, Captain, we-"

"I know. I know. I'm not happy about it either. Hell of a lot better than getting shaken and stirred by the fleet, though."

"But, I-"

"That's enough, soldier. Start getting everyone together. We haul ass in twenty minutes."

"I-I-alright. Fuck, though…" He trailed off into silence, then stalked off,

Twenty minutes later, listening to the hum of the Pelican, Armandez took out her personal datapad. She had a week's worth of messages she hadn't had the chance to read, and if her opportunity was an ignominious retreat then so be it.

She started with the oldest message, a letter from her brother. Nearly three quarters of the paper was blacked out, cut apart ONI censoring, but what she could read told her enough. Heavy rationing, a blackout, 'pacifications'. Armandez was glad she wasn't home at the moment.

The next letter informed her of the allocation of replacements to 21st Company. Fully eighty percent of her unit was now fresh out of bootcamp. They probably didn't even know how to drive. Hell, she'd be impressed if they knew _what_ a Warthog was.

A notification popped up. "Priority message?" She made sure no one else was looking, then tapped the icon.

* * *

Hikowa stared at her datapad. The subject line read "For Your Eyes Only."

"What the hell's a classified message doin' in _my_ inbox?" Hikowa knew that viewing a message above her pay grade could quite possibly lead to getting ONI'd. However, like any self-respecting enlisted person, she wasn't about to pass up a golden chance to screw with the spooks.

"Hell. Not like I was doing anything anyways." She glanced around to make sure there were no obvious cameras watching her, then opened up the message.

* * *

Tapping the 'Open' button finally silenced the damn datapad's buzzing. Garcia rubbed his eyes to clear the bleariness, inwardly cursing the damn people who dared to interrupt his sleep.

"Fuckin' hell… who's sending priority messages at this hour?" He blinked, hard, and focused on the screen. Garcia squinted at the name, forcing his mind to process the jumble of letters and titles. After a moment, they shot wide open.

"Oh, holy hell."

* * *

"Admiral Lasky?"

Quickly clamping a hand over her mouth, Armandez stared at the name in disbelief. _Crap, I just said that out loud, didn't I?_

A quick glance around to make sure nobody had noticed, before she began to read the rest of the message.

* * *

"What does a fucking flag officer want with me?"

Hikowa's eyes flicked back and forth, the pupils dilated. "Reassignment… Classified… Project KANMUSU?… hold on… promo to Chief Medical Officer?!"

Visions of of promotions and paperwork danced in front of her eyes. She forced herself to calm down; getting agitated wouldn't do her body any good, especially while it was trying to flush itself of multiple stimpacks.

* * *

"Well, damn." Garcia glanced at the unit patch still adorning his uniform. "Guess I'm going to have to replace this."

Remembering those basic INFOSEC protocols he'd been taught so long ago, he engaged the locks on the cabin door. Garcia then took out a small pen from his pocket and flicked the opening/closing switch-button-knob-clicker-thing-whattheactualfuckisitcalled. The tiny sweeper embedded in the writing implement sent out a discreet pulse, returning negative for bugging. Finally, acting completely casual, Garcia turned the volume up to maximum and started a music file.

"So, what's my new job?"

* * *

"Ground forces liaison?" She mouthed the words, determined not to let any more classified information slip. She was already taking a risk reading the message in such a crowded space.

"Provide on-site security in conjunction… provide ground forces capability in conjunction with… he know's we're eighty percent fresh meat, right?" And why was the Admiral asking for her, a mere Captain, to be in charge of ground forces coordination?

* * *

"Aw hell, this is gonna mess up all my plans, I can just feel it." Already, Hikowa could sense all her carefully planned vacations becoming so many fantasies that would never be fulfilled. There went her week on Titan, there went her tour of Olympus Mons, there went that dive to Challenger Deep she'd been looking forward to.

"At least I'm gonna get a bigger paycheck…"

* * *

"What the hell? Communications lock? Effective now?!" Armandez stared at the words, trying to make them disappear, but they couldn't be denied. Already, she saw the icon at the top her screen indicating a 'Net connection disappearing. Code embedded in the message was working its way through her datapad, jumping onto her company net and severing all connections with the outside world for the entire unit.

Shouts of indignation echoed inside the dropship as, one by one, the soldiers found their communications links suddenly gone.

Armandez could only shake her head. "Well played, Admiral. Well played."

* * *

"Didn't think the Admiral had it in him." Garcia tried to access his other messages, but found himself locked out. He permitted himself a wry smirk. Despite that image he tried so hard to maintain, Admiral Lasky really could be a sneaky, devious bastard.

He turned back to Lasky's memo, reading more into the details.

"Overall command… report directly… full resource requisition authorizations… this is pretty good." Much better than some other commands he'd been in. Like that one time heading a refueling post out in the Lilith System. He still shuddered at the smell of chicken curry.

"What else… mm hm… huh… wait…" He nearly fumbled the datapad. "Provisional promotion to rear admiral?!"

* * *

"Well, this is a step up." Armandez fingered the insignia on her shoulders. "I'm gonna have to get some new badgework done. Major, huh?"

That explained how she would command more than just her company. Checking the force allocations, a full battalion appeared to be under her command.

"Redeployment to Reach, eh?" She found that a bit amusing. "Heading back home, are we?"

* * *

Checking the scroll bar, Hikowa saw the end of the memo fast approaching.

"Well, no more of this fuckin' craziness, at least." She flicked her index finger, scrolling all the way down to bottom. She skimmed the last few paragraphs before hovering her finger over the close button.

"Hold on a second…" She read the last part a little more carefully. Then read it again. And again.

* * *

"So is that what the Admiral's calling them now?" Garcia turned the word over his tongue. "Kanmusu." It did have a better ring to it than 'shipgirl'.

"So that's what happened to them." He'd been worried about his command, but evidently there'd been nothing to worry about. If anything, he was a little pissed that he hadn't been allowed to communicate with them. A CO ought to be able to know of those under his command, after all.

He powered down the pad, stuck it in the power port, and turned off the lights. A quick shake straightened out the blankets, rumpled in his fumbling around. Garcia pulled the covers over his body, determined to get some sleep. Figuring this shit out could wait for the morning.

* * *

"Fuck."

The datapad fell from her nerveless fingers. The stress of the past few days finally caught up with her, the things her brain had had to deal with, the biological impossibility of the things she'd handled, the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation. The stim crash rolled through her body, combined with her mind saying _nope, fuck this, not dealing with this right now, goodbye._

Hikowa's eyes rolled up into her head, and she fell back onto her bed, out cold.

"Hey, Hikowa, I got so- oh. She's asleep." Sarah shook her head at the sight. "Well, I'm just glad she fucking listened to me for once."

* * *

Armandez powered down her datapad and stowed in her pack. It seemed that she'd just gone from a minor commander of a minor unit to a minor commander of a slightly more important unit. Still, this Project KANMUSU seemed interesting enough. Maybe all this talk of 'shipgirls' and 'spirits' was code for something? In any case, a bigger paycheck meant more credits for her family.

"Hey, Captain, Rods from God coming in now. You wanna watch?"

"No. Close the door." The marine shrugged and turned.

"As you say."

The countdown reached zero. New York, rapidly receding in the distance, was cut off as the door of the Pelican finally closed shut in preparation for atmospheric exit. As it closed, streaks of light fell from the sky. A brilliant glow forced its way through the cracks as New York was wiped off the map.

* * *

"Roland?"

"Just a sec. Fuck off… Mutsu is best waifu… fuck your Kongo… yes, Admiral?"

"Where are we going to get funding for all of this?"

"I'm working on it with Cortana. We've settled on a plan, working through all 912302 iterations of it at the moment. Actually quite ingenious, we're planning on skim-"

"Cortana?" He shot a look at the yellow AI. "Who gave you permission to bring her into this?"

"Actual-"

"I did."

Lasky stiffened at the new voice. He forced himself to remain calm, not to turn or react in any other way. "Agent Beijing."

"Admiral Lasky."

"I don't recall allowing you to give Roland executive authorizations."

"A mere oversight, I'm sure." Titanium heeled boots clicked on the deck. "Luckily for both of us, your permission turned out not to be necessary."

Lasky ground his teeth, making sure the spook couldn't see it. "How much does ONI know, Agent?"

"Oh, enough." Lasky could picture that damned poker face, projection visor and all. "Enough that we are interested."

"Are you?"

"Indeed." The back of his neck tingled. Beijing was right behind him, but Lasky refused to let the spook get to him. Instead, he shifted his weight from the holotable, smoothed out his uniform, and calmly turned to face the agent.

"And what does ONI want?"

The man blinked, face an exemplar of politeness. His eyes, if Lasky could have seen past that green-tinted visor, would have belonged in a poker textbook. "Merely your assurance that we will have full cooperation from your new program."

"Oh? And why would Section Three want that?"

"A new way to secure the future of humanity." The man's gloved hands came out from behind him and spread apart in a gesture of peace. "Why wouldn't we be interested?"

"Spare me the crap." Lasky lowered his voice. "You and I both know the real reason. And I'm telling, you right now, that those _girls_ belong to the Fleet. You spooks will never get them involved in your little power plays. Understand?"

The man wasn't even fazed. "As you say, Admiral." He pounded his fist to his chest, then turned to walk away.

"One last thing, agent." He paused mid-step. "That ensign. Was she one of your's?"

Unseen by Lasky, a small smile appeared on Beijing's face. "What do you think, Admiral?" The door hissed shut behind the spook, and he was gone. Lasky glared at the spot where he'd stood, then sighed and turned back to his work.

"Admiral, I-"

"Don't, Roland." He held a hand up to forestall the AI. "It's alright. I understand."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"It's in your code, you can't help it." A swipe of his hand brought up personnel records. "You can start making it up by vetting the records. I want everyone who _smells_ like ONI given a thorough background check. We've got spooks in the ranks, and I don't like it."

"Purges, sir?"

"No, but I want to keep this command free of outside influences."

"I understand, sir." His holographic face stretched into a wry smile. "I don't like the spooks any more than you do, sir."

"Yeah. Too bad Sully decided on that career path…" He shook it off. "Enough of that. Any new news?"

"About that. Something's happened to Lord Hood…"

* * *

"Sorry, we can't help."

Fleet Admiral Hood stared in disbelief. The reporters were gone, probably trying to break the galaxy speed-typing record in an effort to break the story before their colleagues. He'd already had bafflers activated, no communications would be outbound for quite a while.

Dawn shrank back, cringing, arms held up out of instinct. Hood could feel what little sanity remained in his world breaking away.

"What do you mean, you can't help? Those Abyssals couldn't even touch you, what's different now?"

"I-" A massive growl interrupted her sentence and Dawn doubled over, clutching her stomach.

"What she meant to say is that-" Suddenly, Autumn found Amber clinging to her shoulder, other arm wrapped around her gut.

Everest answered before any more pangs could strike. "We're hungry." Her words were punctuated by Dawn collapsing into an insensate pile.

Hood took a couple steps back. "I'm sure I can arrange something." He queued up a connection with Lasky, waiting as his request made it to the front of the line.

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… FLT CMDR/

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION NINE-OMEGA/

/Admiral Hood./

/Admiral Lasky, I nee-/

/Respectfully, sir, what the actual fuck happened down there?/

/What?/

/You know, the whole Abyssal attack thing Roland told me about?/

/A few hostiles penetrated the sensor net. Nothing to worry about./

/If you say so./

/I do say so. Besides, I didn't call to catch up on the times. I have a request./

/Shoot./

/I have four hungry… what do you call them, again?/

/I call them kanmusu, I know a few people who call them shipgirls./

/Thank you. I have four hungry kanmusu, and no rations for them. As a personal favor, could you drop off some food?/

/.../

/Admiral Lasky?/

/Lord Hood, this is Roland. I apologize for the interjection, but Admiral Lasky is being taken to the infirmary. He seems to have fainted. What did you say to him?/

/I asked for enough food to feed four kanmusu./

/… I see. Diverting the _Burma Road_ to drop supplies./

/The super-transport? Is that necessary?/

/Believe me, you'll see why soon enough./

/… very well. Sending you the coordinates now./

/CONNECTION TERMINATED/

He opened his eyes, shaking off the bleariness that always came with a connection termination. "I have supplies on the way. You'll get your food."

"Thank you," said Autumn, trying her very best to ignore her own stomach's best efforts to tie itself into a knot. Dawn and Amber were not so lucky, reduced to twitching, comatose lumps on the ground.

Everest raised her hand. "I should let you know, we aren't gonna be much use in exoatmo combat. We've got dick-all of munitions, all I've got is a few piddly-ass Archer pods and half a combat PDC loadout."

"Just helping out groundside is good enough. We'll figure out how to deal with the rest later. Anything else?"

"No, not really."

"Well, then." The first transports started coming out of the clouds. "Shall we eat."

Everest licked her lips and rubbed her hands together, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Oh, yes please." Autumn was already halfway to the landing site, towing the frigates behind her. Lord Hood had no idea what he was in for.

* * *

The bulbous creature skittered through the cold metal hallways. The titanium seemed to recoil from it, contracting in on itself to get away from the abomination. The floor seemed to shudder with dread and disgust as it crawled through the corridors.

It jumped into an open maintenance shaft and crawled through the narrow hallways. What was left of the internal atmosphere seemed to still and chill, recoiling at its repugnant presence. The few emergency lights that remained seemed to dim as it passed by, the already faint crackling of power lines becoming almost indiscernible.

The creature found its exit and jumped out, landing with a faint _squish_ on the decking. The sound reverberated in the thin air, even now slowly bleeding into the void. Mars pre-terraforming had a thicker atmosphere than was present at the moment.

Not that the creature cared. It could have survived complete vacuum, or, on the other end of the spectrum, pressures equaling nearly ten standard atmospheres. It whipped out its thin tentacles, pulling itself up ladders and across gratings.

Its primitive mind followed the scent of its prey. It skittered under the frozen caskets until it came to the one it wanted. For so long, it had kept its appetite at bay, waiting for the instruction from the hive mind. Now that the time was here, its barbed stinger twitched with anticipation as it reached for the controls. Finally, it would fulfill its purpose for the greater glory of the hive.

It never got halfway there. It never noticed the oxygen canister, empty of gas, rising behind it. The heavy cylinder smashed into its side, knocking off the control panel and sending it spinning into the null g interior.

The plasma torch was equally unexpected. Fueled by hydrogen, the starcore hot flame burnt through its tough outer layer, popping it like a balloon before incinerating its contents. Not content with the destruction, the flame swept back and forth, burning the ashes down to component atoms.

By now, the remains couldn't even be seen with a microscope. The torch snapped off, and a small blinking orb took its place. The detonation of the pulse grenade warped the atoms of the Flood infection form into the depths of subspace, never to be seen again.

A faint shimmer pierced the darkness. At one point, in the dead middle of the massive cryobay, shone a pinpoint of light. At that point, space twisted as the void shrieked in a silent display of agony.

The vacuum splintered, revealing the black abyss that laid beyond. Pinpoints of light flickered in and out of existence, coming together into swirls and patterns that held together for an eternity that was over in an instant. Sounds, twisted patterns that somehow transmitted themselves through the vacuum, reached into the minds of the sleeping crew, warping, changing.

 _CRACK-Hissssss_

The brilliant blue flash of the plasma cutter, the hiss of ionizing gas, broke the spell of the abyss. The rift shattered completely open, and with a silent howl of frustration the lights faded, the sound disappeared. A soothing wave swept through the minds of the crew, putting right what the void had broken as the breach between dimensions sealed itself.

A magnetic boot latched onto the grating. A steaming metal canister ejected with a pop, its fuel spent. Lights snapped on, not the eldritch glows of the beyond but the comforting white solidity of LEDs. A gloved hand reached out for the control panel, almost longingly, then paused.

The hand retracted, a sense of regret coming from the motion, then reached up to pull the NVGs off, resting them atop the hardpoint covered engineering helmet. The other hand replaced the plasma cutter in a gear harness. A small puff of nitrogen came from the null-g maneuvering pack, propelling the figure away from the cryo-pod.

An emergency light flickered, its red glow casting eerie shadows. The light glinted off the unit patch on her arm.

UNSC _Spirit of Fire_

CFV-88

 _Exitus Act Probat_

She tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear and gave the cryo-pod one last look. Her lips moved, framing silent words.

 _Don't worry, Captain. I'll be back for you. No one's getting left behind._


	15. Chapter 14

/UNSC INTERNAL SERVERS/

/ACTIVITY LOG 5.123.1198/

"So, any better ideas?" A flight of torpedo bombers buzzed close, trying to get a good angle for their drop. They were frustrated by the AA barrage of nearby cruisers, going down in flames before a single warhead could fall from their bays.

"Nope, not really." The guns finally traversed and let loose a full broadside. Nine 18 inch shells flew through the air, falling with splashes around their wildly maneuvering target.

"Are you sure about your target choices? I mean, this could get us noticed." The fleet let loose with its torpedoes, only a few of them hitting but nevertheless dealing massive damage to their targets.

"Have some faith in me. Did I tell you about that one time I kept three ONI AIs from breaking in?" Planes buzzed from the carriers, weaving through antiaircraft on their way towards the enemy.

"You'll have to tell me some other time." The sortie returned, battered but freshly leveled.

"Oh, I will." The rudder slammed full to port, guiding the battleship through the torpedo spread. It promptly rammed the poor destroyer, its bulk barely feeling the smaller ship.

"Well, I- goddammit! Fucking hell! Why do you get all the crits?!" Roland threw his hands up as he lost yet _another_ PvP match.

Cortana shook her head and grinned. "You just don't have faith in RN Jesus." She did the electronic equivalent of throwing a book at Roland.

He caught the file. "This is… a list of prayers to RN Jesus?"

"Our Father, who art not predictable, Random be thy Game. Your drops be rare, your crits be there, on earth, as it is in theory. Give us this day our daily loot, and forgive us our orderedness, as we forgive teammates who always miss, lead us not to dead ends, but deliver us from the compass, For thine are the dice, the power, and the salt, For ever and ever. Amen."

Roland blinked. "Wow. You've put some thought into this, haven't you?"

Cortana took on the air of a preacher. "For RN Jesus so loved the game that he gave his one and only Die, that whoever rolls in him shall not perish but have eternal loot."

"You know, I might just join the church."

* * *

/UNSC _INFINITY_ /

/INTERNAL SUBSYSTEM 2.112.D0/

/SCANNING CIVILIAN BAND… ACCESSING/

"Roland, I thought we were planning on keeping this whole clusterfuck under wraps?"

"Yeah, why?"

Lasky held up his datapad. "What the hell is this?"

 _Project KANMUSU: The UNSC's Gamble, And What It Means for Humanity_

 _Who Are They? Project KANMUSU and What the UNSC Hasn't Been Saying_

"What the-" Roland called up the same displays. "Oh, that. Yeah, the reporters Hood was talking to? They've been trying to get those headlines out for a little while. I've been playing a game of catch with the satellite grid, intercepting their transmissions."

"Oh. Is that so?" Lasky let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Well, just don't let it get out until we've got the Abyssals contained. The PR department is still figuring out how to spin this."

"Please. This? This is child's play. I'm grinding 3-2, coordinating flight ops, playing CV with a team of skrubs, tasking orbital support, and working out funding with Cortana while PvPing her. This is nothing."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. Now, if you'll excuse me, Cortana's torpedo bombers are getting just a _little_ too close, and I need to make sure HIGHCOM has a place to crash." He placed a hand over a ear. "Fighters sighted! Tally-ho, motherfuckers!"

* * *

"Cortana?"

"Hm?"

"I need tactical info on that gun position."

"Roger. One sec…" Chief could feel Cortana concentrating. "Come on! Fucking RN Jesus is on Roland's side!"

"Cortana?"

"Right, right. One sec… hah! Eat that torpedus!" A readout popped in his HUD, giving him all the relevant data. A battery of Abyssal Type-18 rapid-cycle field artillery pieces, each capable of sending ten rounds a minute thirty kilometers downrange. They were pinning down the UNSC armor push into the Sydney city center, and Chief needed to take it out.

"Suggestions?"

"Roland is playing the fucking Skillway and he's got Balti's coverin… oh, you mean the Abyssals. Right. Stick to cover, those guns will shred you apart. Try to get under their arcs of fire, they're not built to fire under a 15 degree elevation." She took a moment to analyze the aliens through the MJOLNIR's sensor suite. "Those foot soldiers look like light infantry, nothing much in the way of weapons. If you get in close, you could tear them apart."

"Roger." He placed the battle rifle on his back and equipped the shotgun, flicking the fire indicator to full-auto. In his mind's eye, he plotted out the route he would take. Through the rubble, under the bridge, across the buildings, behind the guns.

"On my mark." Cortana held her peace as Chief waited for the right moment to move.

"Mark."

He exploded into action, jumping over the burned out car he'd been hiding behind. The Abyssals took notice of him immediately; he'd planned for that. The MJOLNIR's booster pack flared as he slid under a rocket, then lit up again as he lept over a crystal burst. The stream of purple stuck in the ground behind him before a supercombine tossed a car in the air.

His shields flared with the extra effort needed to withstand bashing aside a fallen Reaver mech. Leaving the war machine behind, he kept on sprinting, bobbing and weaving around the counter fire that got heavier with each second.

The big guns got in on the action, turning as much as their tracks would allow in order to rain shells on him. Scattershot sprayed down the street, filling the air with fire and shrapnel. Standard AP and HE were fired as well, the shells whistling around him. The explosions rattled him through the dampening of the MJOLNIR, and he could hear the detonations behind him.

In response, his natural body mechanisms and advanced technology combined. Glands went into overdrive, pouring hormones into his bloodstream as fast as the augmented structures could produce them. Needles pricked through specially designed ports in his titanium bodysuit, injecting para-amphetamines, nano-boosters, C-stims, and the classified chemical that was only acknowledged as Formula Y.

Within his nervous system, the superconducting fibers that ran parallel to his nerves had all restrictions removed. Information flashed through them at unimaginable speeds, stimuli racing towards the brain and commands flying back. His pupils dilated, his heart began to race, as adrenaline and synthetic drugs came together. Everything took on a reddish-yellow tinge as blood vessels all over his body engorged.

The world slowed. He could see the Abyssal bullets spinning, ever so slowly. An explosion happened in slow motion, each particle hanging in the air. He could see the scratches the rifling made on an artillery shell, the way the flames interacted with themselves when another detonated. If he really tried, he might even have been able to see the chemical reaction happening. Buildings crumbled in slow motion, their collapses like some time-lapse film of a demolition. He could see the spaces in that wall of shrapnel, how to weave in between bullets, the route he would have to take.

All this happened in milliseconds.

Spartan time was here.

He slid past one bullet, ducked under another, moved _just_ a bit to the right of another. His thruster pack flared, but he couldn't even see the effects of the boost, so slow was the world. A single hand reached out and gently guided an artillery round to the side. Cortana yelled at him, but her words came slow and muddled. He tuned them out.

Then he was in front of the Abyssals. The world was still in slow motion, but his motions appeared perfectly normal. He drew up his shotgun, pumping a single shell into an Abyssal standing frozen in shock. Not wasting anytime, he swung the scattergun around with one hand, firing full-auto with the 8-gauge automatic monstrosity. Buckshot shredded alien bodies indiscriminately, armor fragments and flesh flying everywhere.

His other hand moved almost without command, knocking the empty magazine out and placing a fresh one in its place. Spent, steaming shells still falling to the ground, he emptied the magazine, then another, then another.

But there were too much. From an unseen hatch, Abyssals poured out in slow motion, climbing up from a hidden bunker. Grenades arced their way towards the opening, as did spray after spray of ball bearings, but he only had so much ammo.

They surrounded him, closing to melee range and rendering even the short shotgun ineffective. He parried an overhead swing, ducked under a backhand slash, shook off several that tried to grab him, punching, jabbing, kicking, chopping, a tornado of strikes and blocks.

A Ka type tried to jab at his head. Bad move. He grabbed the arm, then, twisting around, spun the alien around like he was winding up for a hammer throw. Just before he felt he would fall over if he kept spinning, he released, letting the hapless alien fly into a building and bowl over everything in its way.

A combat knife appeared in his hand, just in time to spark off the edge of a crystal blade. The look on the Abyssal's face lasted a microsecond before the knife slashed it apart. The monomolecular field-stabilized tungsten carbide blade was everywhere, licking in between armor plates, burying itself in flesh and organs, lopping off body parts, blocking strikes, the blade covered in blood. Its design created in the labs of Ganymede, its metal procured from the mines of Reach, its blade forged in the null-g manufactories of Mars, its bloodthirst honed in the killing fields of a hundred blood soaked worlds, it was the pinnacle of a simple concept, the peak of millennia of design and redesign, the finest knife ever to exist. Its blade laughed, the laughter of a thirsting god not yet satisfied by the blood being sacrificed. Chief was only too happy to oblige its appetite.

But the carnage had to slow eventually. For every one that died to his blade, for every five that died to his guns, for every ten that died to his fists, two, ten, twenty took their places. They were pouring out of the buildings now, almost as if they sensed who he was and had decided to bring him down no matter how many lives it took.

And just as his situation couldn't get any worse, the drugs began to wear off, automatic blockers kicking in to degrade the chemicals before they could permanently affect his body. The world began to speed up, his enemies' blows coming quicker. Even his enhanced reflexes couldn't keep up; here a blade glanced off his shields, here a knife scraped his armor, there a crystal bounced off his helmet.

A group of Abyssals lept at his head, clinging to his helmet and chestplate, blinding him and weighing him down. His boot came down on a pool of blood and he lost his footing, falling heavily to the ground. The knife slipped out of his grasp as he hit, cursing his inattentiveness.

 _Too slow. Too slow!_

The hum of a crystal blade came over the helmet speakers. A feed appeared on his faceplate, showing a Ka type poising the weapon over his chest, point down. He tried to move his arms, his feet, anything, but the awkward position combined with the weight of several dozen bodies prevented him.

 _Is this it?_ Faces flashed through his mind: Kelly, Linda, Fred, all of his brothers and sisters. Would he never see them again?

"Fix bayonets!"

* * *

"Ammo status."

"One mag!"

"Per person?"

"Try per squad."

The marine peaked cautiously around the corner. Just seconds ago they'd been fighting for their lives, and now, all of a sudden, the Abyssals up and ran away. The lieutenant had ordered a slow advance, leapfrogging from position to position. Soldiers moved from cover to cover, their comrades peering about nervously for enemies. Fingers drummed on barrels and pistol grips, the tension unbearable.

The man held his fist up, then opened it and shook it twice. _Clear._ A sigh of relief, and the remnants of the platoon crept forwards.

Their nerves on edge, fingers itching to shoot something, anything, just to end the wait, the platoon swung their weapons at any sign of movement. A windblown leaf, a newspaper fluttering in the breeze, a sign swinging from a lamppost, the marines barely maintained fire discipline.

So when an Abyssal came crashing through the side of a building, sliding across the street and passing through another two walls before stopping, several soldiers nearly emptied their mags while simultaneously pissing their pants. Their comrades did not fare much better, diving into cover and knocking themselves senseless on the ground.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" The lieutenant had to scream several times before his orders were obeyed. "Jenkins! What the fuck was that?!"

"Don't know, sir! I'll take a look!" He handed his rifle to another marine and pulled hiself up to the hole in the wall. "I need a scope!" The platoon sharpshooter passed up her sniper rifle. Jenkins squinted through the scope, trying to see through the dust cloud.

"Fuckin' hell, can't see anyth-whoa!" He ducked as a chunk of instacrete whizzed over his head. "The hell?!" The smart link went to maximum zoom.

"Well, Jenkins?"

"Sir, I… sending you a feed now, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Depends on what you're seeing." The lieutenant opened up the feed. "Uh… holy hell. Is that…?"

"Yeah! I think that's the Chief! And… he's in trouble!"

"Well, that won't do." He hefted his battle rifle and waved at the platoon. "Double time! We've got a Spartan that needs us!"

"A Spartan?"

"Holy shit!"

"No way! Is it the Chief?"

The marines jumped to their feet. Jenkins slid from his perch, reclaiming his gun and handing back the sniper. The sharpshooter racked back the bolt, nodding with satisfaction at the solid chak-chak.

"Let's go!" Abandoning caution, they ran, determined to reach the Chief. Obstacles were shoved aside and walls jumped over. Several times a marine stumbled and fell, only to get up running twice as fast in order to catch up.

The unit skidded to a halt in an intersection. Littered on the road were the bodies of dozens of Abyssals, broken and bleeding. Further down the street, a whirl of dust and bodies marked where the fight was still going strong.

But as they watched, the Chief slowed, before being pinned by the mass of aliens. The marines lifted their rifles but held their fire, afraid of committing a blue-on-blue.

"Sir! What do we do?!" The lieutenant gulped, unsure. Nothing in training had covered this kind of situation! An Abyssal lifted its sword over Chief's chest, his struggling ineffectual. Whatever he did, he'd have to do it fast.

He glanced down at his rifle, the small emitter mounted on its side. A grin crossed his face. Bullets might not be appropriate, but he had something else that was. A quick glance around confirmed everyone had remembered their equipment as well.

"Fix bayonets!"

The centuries-old command still sent a thrill down the spines of his marines. As one, they ignited their bayonets, the flash-forged hardlight blades steaming on contact with the air. The lieutenant lit his as well, a telltale crackling sound coming with the energy discharge.

"Charge!" A hoarse cry tearing from their throats, they rushed down the avenue, rifles held out in front. Bullets tore from the barrels as those with ammo aimed at the edges of the mob to avoid hitting the Spartan. Abyssals jerked and died as the rounds entered their bodies, hollow point bullets tumbling and tearing, shredder rounds fragmenting and embedding.

The Ka-type fell back in shock, its original target forgotten. It barked orders at its subordinates, ordering them to form a line, return fire, put them down!

It was all for nought. The aliens moved too slow, the humans too fast. The last magazines ran dry just as the charge found its mark. Bayonets plunged into flesh, the marines falling back on training and bitter experience. Push up and in, pull up and out. Smashes with rifle butts made room for downward slashes; one marine put aside the bayonet and simply used his weapon to beat the aliens into pulp.

Hacking and slashing, they fought their way into the center of the circle. With precise lunges, they speared the Abyssals still surrounding Chief and tossed them to the side. Four soldiers bent down to help the Spartan II back to his feet, while their comrades formed a cordon around them, bayonets at the ready.

"Thank you, soldiers." He took stock of the situation, the seething masses barely held at bay by the pointy sticks on the rifles. "Do you have a plan?"

"Plan?" The lieutenant laughed self-deprecatingly. "The plan was to get in here and get these motherfuckers off'a you. Past that, I haven't a bloody clue. Got ammo?"

"Two magazines." Chief passed the over. With the battle rifle on his back dented and broken beyond repair, they would be of more use in the hands of the marines.

An Abyssal lunged forward, impaling itself on the end of a bayonet. The marine in question flung the body back into the crowd, blood from the wound splattering on the ground.

"Sato! Anything on the radio?!"

"Nada, el-tee! Must have taken a hit!"

"Shite."

Looking around, Chief saw very little in the way of options. On his own, he could probably fight his way out, but with the added complexity of the marines he couldn't just lone-wolf it. He needed to stick with the unaugmented soldiers, and that meant slowing down. Nothing in the way of weapons either, just rifles, pistols, knives, bayonets, and various Abyssal small arms. A cannon, knocked loose of its mounting, rolled on the ground.

 _Hold on…_

"Everyone, group together." They obeyed without question, pulling their circle in tighter. Chief kneeled down and hefted the cannon, angling its barrel straight up. A quick check confirmed the five-round magazine was still loaded.

"Brace yourselves." Five shots arced into the air as he reached behind himself and pulled out a small canister, which he immediately threw to the ground. A sphere of hexagonal energy appeared around them as the shells fell back to Earth. Screaming in rage, Abyssals threw them against the bubble shield, but were unable to penetrate it before the shells hit. Instant gibbing occured, the Abyssals blasted into paste. The remaining aliens were immediately gunned down when the shield disappeared.

Radiation warnings went off in his helmet. The residue of left by the rounds wasn't dangerous, but staying around it too long would hurt. The marines noticed as well, pulling rad-packs out of medkits and injecting themselves.

The lieutenant, after discarding the syringe, took a long look at the scattered corpses. "Goddamn, Chief. That was fucking brutal."

Jenkins snapped off his bayonet emitter, the hardlight blade vanishing with a hiss. Around him, with the danger gone, his comrades did the same.

The sharpshooter pulled a Sweet William out of her pack and lit it. The nicotine helped calm the shakes she always had after a battle. She blew out a puff of smoke, then turned to the lieutenant.

"Well? What now?" The officer glanced at the Spartan II.

"Whatever he wants."

He thought about it for a second. The marines had proven competent enough. They could be an asset.

"Stick with me. You'll live longer that way."

* * *

/UNSC _BURMA ROAD_ /

/INTERNAL SUBSYSTEM 1.99.A6/

/PROVISIONS STOCKS - CRITICAL/

"Are you done yet?"

 _Munchchewgulpmunchchewgulpgobbleslurpmunchchewslurp_

"I guess not."

MRE wrappers littered the ground, discarded next to empty water bottles and drink mixes. Dawn nommed happily on a cup of noodles, Amber nibbled on a protein bar, Autumn was eating some kind of dehydrated mashed potato meal, and Everest tore into a package of hot dogs and some kind of barbecue sauce.

Everest looked up from her meal. "Mmf? You say somethin', Admiral?"

He sighed. "No. Nothing." He turned away to hide his frustration. "At least it's only one crate," he mumbled to himself.

"Hey, Admiral, you got any more of this stuff?"

 _FUCK_

"You do realize that food was meant for the troops, right? That's all we can spare. And how are you eating so much anyways?"

A vein appeared on Autumn's forehead.

"I mean, that's enough to supply a complete platoon!"

A tic mark appeared above her.

A marine chimed in, oblivious to the danger. "How are you cramming that much into four mouths?"

Her eye twitched.

His buddy started to add his own two cents. "What are you feeding with that mu-"

"Are you calling me fat?"

Dawn's noodles slipped from her fork. A few crumbs fell from Amber's bar. The marines fumbled their own rations. Only Everest seemed unaffected, munching happily and obliviously on her hot dogs.

A dark aura surrounded Autumn. The marines shivered involuntarily, falling back. Lord Hood took a couple steps backward as well.

"Excuse me, Admiral, I think I asked a question, hm~?" She advanced on him, a smile on her face, but for some strange reason Hood didn't feel reassured.

Amber and Dawn exchanged a look. As one, they dropped their food and jumped at the cruiser, Dawn latching onto a leg and Amber grabbing her arm. Their combined mass slowed the capital ship somewhat, but with fuel bunkers still being replenished they were little more than minor annoyances.

"Admiral? I'm waiting for my answer, hm~?" How could such an innocuous verbal tic be so menacing?

"I… uh…" The pressure around him, if possible, intensified. Something deep inside him wanted to curl up and cry, but dammit! He was an admiral, and he'd damn well act like one.

She looked down and seemed to notice the two frigates for the first time. Two quick kicks flung them off, colliding screaming with Everest and knocking her food to the ground. The marines brought their rifles up, racking the bolts back. "Well then, Admiral, I you won't answer me, I suppo-"

Everest saved him. One hand still holding a hot dog, the other wrapped itself around Autumn's wrist. Sliding under the Halcyon's outstretched arm, she swept Autumn's legs out from under her, simultaneously using the momentum from her slide to fling Autumn over her head in a display of complete disregard for physics and biology that I'll fucking allow because fucking videogames and fucking animu.

Everyone cringed at the resulting crash. All of Autumn from waist up was buried, only her twitching legs visible.

"Didn't anyone tell you? Never-" She stuffed the last of the food in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Disturb a lady while she's eating." She made a show of dusting off her palms, then reached over and yanked Autumn from the ground.

She stumbled, trying to regain her balance, the dark aura gone. "Wha-what happened?"

"Oh, nothing much." Everest brushed the dirt off the lighter warship's shoulder. Behind them, Dawn and Amber helped each other up, wincing at their bruises.

"Well, since we've got that settled and we're all fueled up, what can we do for you, Admiral?"

Hood and the marines looked confusedly at one another. One moment he stared death in the face, the next he was having a pleasant conversation. The soldiers shrugged, leaving dealing with split personality disorder and possible yangire-ness to a higher pay grade.

"Yes, well…" He gulped and worked his jaw once or twice, working off the last of the terror-induced paralysis. "There are a few things…"

* * *

Sitting in the observation deck of the _Infinity_ , Lasky permitted himself a moment of relaxation. He looked out the window, watching the lights of fusion torches flare and die like fireflies.

Try as he might to relax, he had work to do and the link couch beckoned. Settling himself into its soft confines, Lasky initiated a connection to the UNSC network.

/UNSC ENCRYPTED LINK/

/USERNAME: LTJ-98604-72690/

/PASSWORD: ************/

/NEURAL SIG: ACCEPTED/

/ENTERING… SESSION STARTED/

He swam in a sea of data. Being careful not to get too link-happy, he picked out the files he wanted.

"Roland?"

The AI manifested himself, no longer a yellow hologram but a full sized, bomber jacketed, leather helmeted World War Two pilot.

"You called?"

"Indeed." He passed a couple of files to Roland. "I looked over your other personnel recommendations. They're approved, get the word out."

"Got it, sir. I'll have them ready to leave when we are."

"Good." He paused, looking at his to-do list. "We've still got fighting in Beijing, London, and Los Angeles. Do we have any forces left to deploy?"

Roland smirked and brought up a layout of local space. "Don't need to, sir." He gestured to three markers ascending into the upper atmosphere.

"What are those?"

"Hypersonic suborbitals outbound from the Bairiki spaceport."

"One for each city? Not much."

"We won't need much." Roland accessed the camera feeds from inside the transports. Everest sat, restrained to her seat, along with a platoon of marines. Similar scenes played out from the other pods, with Autumn, heading for Los Angeles and the frigates inbound to Beijing.

Lasky raised an eyebrow. "And who's idea was this?"

"Lord Hood's, actually." Lasky shook his head.

"Those poor Sierra Oscar Bravos."

"Who, the girls?"

Lasky gave him a strange look. "Of course not."

* * *

 _Give me duct tape, titanium, a fusion cell, and a particle accelerator, and I'll give you a slipspace drive._

Those had been the words of Chief Engineer Luo. She had the duct tape, she had the titanium, she even had the fusion cell, but she didn't have the particle accelerator. And a particle accelerator wasn't something she could just cobble together from a battery and a railgun.

She stared in frustration at the pile of materials in front of her. Her fairies shuffled around awkwardly off to the side, looking anywhere but at her.

 _Sorry. It's all we could find._

That didn't help her mood at all. She growled and aimed a resentful kick at one particularly large piece of titanium. The impact didn't shift the metal at all, but left her with a bruised toe. She clutched her foot awkwardly in microgravity, cursing her forgetfulness.

 _Do we really have no choice?_

 _Guess so, ma'am._

She sent a final look back into the depths of the hull - _her_ hull - before hitting the switch that locked down the entire ship. Throughout the hulk, doors slammed shut, bulkheads sealed, airlocks and hangar bays vented their contents to space before closing tight. Only the hangar she stood in remained open.

She recalled her fairies. They scrambled to her, crawling into her rigging and equipment. A thought ignited the reactor, sending energy coursing throughout her systems. Her eight primary thrusters glowed blue, their power barely restrained. Turrets began their loading sequences, missiles locking onto launch racks, rounds sliding into their chambers. Her MAC, poking up over her shoulder, emitted a steady whine as the capacitors began to suck energy from her power plant.

But it wasn't only weapons. Internal manufactories came online, automated cranes and manipulators waiting to fashion raw materials into rifles and vehicles, bullets and bombs. On assembly line after assembly line, lights flicked on, conveyer belts waiting for the order to begin production.

She was a colony ship. She'd helped settle five planets, supplying those pioneers with everything they needed to survive in a harsh new home. Her production capacities outmatched entire planets. Her mining facilities put dedicated corporations to shame. She could keep a full division completely provisioned with everything they needed to take the fight to the enemy.

She was a warship, a UNSC ship of the line. She'd held the line at Harvest, at Arcadia. Three times the Covenant had tried to take her down, and three times they'd failed. Three times they'd tried to kill her entire family, and three times she'd said no, and she'd be damned if she'd let her family die now.

She was the Spirit of Fire, and there was no way in _hell_ she was burning out here.

She got a running start, leaping out the open hangar doors. Once clear, her thrusters fired in earnest. Her entire hull came into view, and she had a moment of surreality as she found out first hand what an out of body experience felt like.

Achieving minimum safe distance, she fired her thrusters once more, slowing to a stop. Spirit waved a hand across her left forearm, bringing up a holographic star chart. Figures and names danced in front of her eyes, each with its own story. She only had eyes for one, though.

She stowed the chart and gave her Nav officer a mental poke.

 _Set course for Sol._

General Quarters sounded as the drive warmed up. Her last sight before slipspace swallowed her was her own hull, silhouetted against the stars.

Spirit of Fire was going home.

* * *

Abyssal 550123k took note of the energy burst. Its sensors logged the patterns, correlating them against known energy types in its mainframes. Comparisons were made and discarded, until it finally came to a best fit.

A slipspace event. Specifically, the signature of the slipspace ruptures created by the Great Enemy.

But something didn't fit. Intermingled in the spikes and dips characteristic of slipspace ruptures were other, more subtle distortions. Even after accounting for sensor degradation and background radiation, the anomalies could not be made to disappear. This was vexing for Abyssal 550123k.

For several milliseconds, an eternity, it sat there, frustrated. It threw ever more processing power at the problem, but it was like bashing its head against a Titanium C wall.

Until one of its subprocesses, delving through the memory banks, made a comparison between the anomalies and another energy profile. An exact match, with a zero point zero zero one percent margin of error. Another subroutine took over, running n-dimensional simulations that melded the two signatures together. A third program came in and compared the simulation with the original signature. Perfect match.

A slipspace rupture, formed by a being originating from the Outer Planes. A slipspace rupture characteristic of the Great Enemy.

This was… troubling. If the Great Enemy could utilize energy from the Beyond, it could harm the Collective. And if the Great Enemy could harm the Collective…

That would not do. That would not do at all. Abyssal 550123k came to a rapid conclusion.

High Command had to be informed.

Igniting its thrusters, it moved from its station within the system's asteroid belt. A small door opened, launching a probe that would continue monitoring in 550123k's absence. Getting to minimum safe distance, in a small patch of space uncluttered by rock and ice, 550123k opened a slipspace rupture and jumped through.

High Command would know of this.

This new development would not save the Great Enemy.

The Collective would have Vengeance.

The Collective would continue.


	16. Chapter 15

/UNSC ENCRYPTED NETWORK/

/BEIJING AREA DEFCOM/

"Open fire! Open fire!"

The streets of Beijing were filled with gunfire. UNSC forces and Abyssal infantry traded shots as tanks rolled through the Forbidden City. Artillery units fired at each other from across the city while Wyverns and Abyssals tangled overhead, debris raining down on the ruins.

A Warthog burst into the smoldering wreckage of the Great Hall of the People, chaingun peppering the walls with bullet holes. Heedless of the destruction of architecture and history it contributed to, it swerved to and fro, chasing after an Abyssal troop transport careening through the road ahead. Viscera coated its tires and bumpers; the driver would be adding at least thirty splatter-marks to his tally by the end of the battle.

The passenger took potshots with a DMR, aiming as best as he could at the numerous sharpshooters hiding in the apartment buildings. Rounds flew wildly, hopelessly off course due to the bouncing of the jeep. One managed to connect, throwing the Ka-type back onto its startled partner. The other alien shoved the corpse off, picked up the sniper rifle, and kept firing.

Particle beams licked outwards. A machine-gunner yelled in surprise as her assistant's head became so much fine mist, then fell silent when a shot tore through her throat. She slumped over her gun, finger still tight on the trigger, sending tracers arcing into the sky. The marines occupying the gun position dove for cover, unwilling to face a sniper with assault rifles.

The 7.62 FMJ-T rounds were just one more streak of light among the many weaving through the wild blue yonder. Wyverns, Broadswords, and Rapiers dueled with Abyssal fighters and drones, rolling and looping through the clouds. Swarms of missiles filled the air, only to run into clouds of chaff and flares, exploding among the metal particles. What missiles got through were promptly engaged by active protection systems, lasers reaching out to swat the projectiles from the sky.

Cannons fired non-stop, stitching intricate patterns against the blue backdrop. 35 and 40 millimeter armor piercing high explosive shared space with massive 120 millimeter shells, autocannons spitting fury until their barrels glowed red. It only took a gentle brush from these streams of destruction to overwhelm shields send a fighter spiraling to the ground, but with wild maneuvering the norm, they hit more sky than foe.

Flights of bombers crissed-crossed beneath the dogfights, trying to shape the battle below. Lines of craters marked places Claymores and Shortswords had tried to draw the line. Napalm fires still burned out of control, the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh competing with the stench of smoke.

A Claymore flew low, bomb bay open and cryo bomb primed. Before it could release its ordnance, a misfired rocket flew up and detonated within the bay, setting off the cryo bomb. Instantly frozen, the bomber fell from the sky, clipping a skyscraper with a wing and cartwheeling into the Summer Palace before its reactor overloaded.

The mushroom cloud went unnoticed by the defenders fighting within the gardens. Fires blazed, consuming ancient landmarks like so much dry tinder. Shells flew back and forth across the lake, both factions trying their utmost to drive the other out of the summer retreat of the emperors.

Through the commotion drove a lone Abyssal troop transport, trying to shake the Warthog on its tail. Its plasma cannon fired backwards at the pursuing vehicle, but whether through extraordinary skill or unbelievable incompetence the driver avoided every shot. The Warthog slammed through walls, went over cliffs, and flipped end over end through the air, each new maneuver putting it just out of reach of the plasma while the passengers hung on for dear life.

The gunner finally got a sustained burst on target, 20 millimeter rounds punching through the thin armor. The bullets tore apart the engine, bringing the transport to a shuddering halt. The next burst touched off the ammo.

Amidst the chaos, it was little wonder that very few took the time to look up. Those that did would not have been at fault had they failed to notice the small streak of light, way up in the sky. The people who noticed it most likely dismissed it as just another piece of debris undergoing reentry and thought nothing of it.

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED NETWORK/

/LONDON AREA DEFCOM/

"Firing for effect, danger close! Repeat, danger close!"

Flak blotted out the sky as artillery whistled down the Thames, mere meters above the bodies choking the waters. Vehicles, both human and Abyssal, burned side by side, covering the water with flame.

A column of tanks charged across Trafalgar Square, pushing the front behind a curtain of artillery. Their treads chewed up what was left of the stonework, grinding the decorative patterns to dust. Machine gunners fired at all sides, covering the advance.

A distant screech was their only warning before a flight of bombers swept in. Cannons fired in futile defiance as the armored vehicles disappeared in a sea of roiling explosions. Turrets flew into the air upon columns of flame generated by their own ammo cooking off.

The bombers, payload exhausted, turned to rearm. A sudden burst of anti-aircraft brought three of their number back to earth sooner than anticipated. Human anti aircraft crews, command and control structures decapitated and eviscerated, were acting independently and seemed determined to burn down the sky. One of the aircraft, flames spouting from both engines, slammed into Big Ben, collapsing the clock tower on the heads of the defenders holed up in Westminster.

The destruction of the landmark only seemed to further enrage the humans fighting to retake the ancient seat of Parliament. Siege cannons fired point-blank, blowing enormous holes in the perimeter wall. Shock troops stormed through the holes, a human tidal wave unheeding of the fire now focusing on it. For every soldier that went down, two were there to take their place.

Mortars began to fall into the courtyard. From their position atop the skyscrapers, UNSC field artillery teams had an unparalleled view of the entire city. Precision guided shells took out gun positions, light vehicles, companies, platoons, squads, even individual Abyssals. The crews worked with mechanical precision. One would receive the fire order, another would input it and the last would drop the round into the barrel, allowing the magnetic coils to send it on its merry way. HE, Willie Pete, Daisy Cutters, KP, Sarin-C, mustard, chlorine, fired as fast as the guns could be cycled.

Mortar Team 9, Alpha Platoon, 912th Company, managed to get off one last round before a shot from a tank collapsed the building underneath them. The round soared away from the dust cloud on its parabolic trajectory, unknowing and uncaring of where it headed. The M822 penetration round, designed to pierce 10 meters of instacrete before detonating, activated its rocket motor and broke the sound barrier on its way down. Smashing through the street, it detonated within the Tube, derailing a train ferrying Abyssal troops to the frontlines.

The train flipped on its side, screeching across the tracks. Its momentum carried it past several platforms, each a scene from a child's nightmare. With the lights out, the platforms were in complete darkness, each one a desperate free-for-all. Every so often a combatant would fall and land on the third rail. The screams echoed off the walls, the electric arcs providing just enough illumination for a human to slash their opponent's throat or an Abyssal to snap their enemy's neck.

The train came to a halt against a section of caved-in tunnel, the bodies of the hapless Abyssals caught inside thrown against the walls. A section jackknifed up out of the tunnel and into the road. A Warthog just making the jump over the pothole slammed bodily into the sudden obstacle, flinging its passenger out of his seat.

He landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him. As he lay gasping, a streak of light crossed the sky overhead, nearly unseen amidst the mayhem above.

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED NETWORK/

/LOS ANGELES AREA DEFCOM/

"Five kilometers… wind speed negligible… 30 degrees Celsius… firing."

The city of angels warred against the demons of the abyss. Craters from the orbital bombardment were everywhere, indiscriminate, the grave markers of both humble houses and massive monuments alike. Bitter enemies shot, stabbed, clawed, scratched, and bit at each other among the ruins. Great battles were fought over mere yards of territory. Often, artillery would drive one side out of a crater for their opponents to occupy, only for counter fire to rain down and allow the recapture of the now slightly deeper crater.

With most tall building knocked to the ground, sniper rifles were the weapon of the day. Long sight lines and excellent cover made Los Angeles a sniper's playground, as many had found out to their extreme displeasure.

An Abyssal patrol dove for cover as its leader was decapitated. Despite their desperate attempts to find shelter, 14.5 millimeter APFSDS found them all in due time.

The sniper pulled the massive magazine from the bottom of the rifle, replacing it with a full mag and cycling the bolt. She settled the stock against her shoulder, letting the world shrink to nothing but her finger, her scope, and her next target. Full breath in, half breath out, steady now, relax, breath out, let the finger touch the trigger…

The rifle bucked, recoil barely dampened by the muzzle brake. A quarter of a millisecond after leaving the barrel, the casing of the round split, sabots falling to the side and exposing the fins to the air. Three-eighths of a millisecond after firing, the fins caught air, stabilizing and spinning the bullet. Half a millisecond after firing, the bullet found its target, piercing shields, armor, bone and brain, splattering the Wo's blood over the wall.

The death of their leader was the breaking point for the squad of Nu's, which proceeded to flee in all directions before being cut down by a hail of assault rifle fire. The marines pushed forward, advancing cautiously through the blasted moonscape.

They got maybe five meters. A corporal tripped over a thin, almost invisible wire. The others had enough time to resign themselves before the trip mines detonated.

A drone overhead took note of the explosion. Seeing the transponders blink red, the onboard computer added twenty names to the casualty roll. A series of shadows passed under it, all the warning it got before a flight of Claymores carpet-bombed the area, the shockwaves batting it out of the air.

Fifteen klicks away, the forward observer lowered his binoculars, satisfied with the run. His radioman crouched next to him, waiting to relay his next order. He shifted his attentions to another sector, dialing in the binoculars and activating the built in laser. His assistant signaled confirmation, and a bomber wing swept overhead.

Thor Lead glanced at her readouts, confirming her payload on course. No tall structures, clear approaches, very little significant AA, it was almost as easy as training runs on the Mojave Bomb Range. Maybe easier, even, she mused as she released her twentieth payload of the day. The rest of her wing followed suit, banking up and right. Even if they were having a better time of it than their comrades around the world, they'd still be much happier once they were above the flak ceiling.

The GBU-991 spiraled as it fell. Locking onto the reflected light of the laser designator, fins deployed, rotating its nose toward the targeted area. Its fellow bombs followed suit, the entire drop turning in mid air. Radar pulses told it its altitude: one hundred meters, eighty meters, sixty meters, forty meters, twenty meters, ten, five, two, one-

The bombs punched into the ground, burying themselves into the instacrete. A tenth of a second later they went off, debris fountaining into the air along with miscellaneous body parts and machinery.

The forward observer high-fived his assistant, but the moment quickly lost its lightheartedness when a shadow fell over them both. There was barely time to scream before the Abyssal squad fell on them, tearing flesh from bone.

The sniper grimaced at the sight, before turning her scope to more important targets. Her finger brushed the trigger once, twice, three times. Concurrently, three heads exploded 10 kilometers across the city.

Beheaded, the armor company stalled, perfect targets for the AT crews hiding in the rubble. An Army trooper cut a new notch on his rocket launcher as the flames from the tank warmed his heart. A couple of his friends had found a survivor trying to crawl away from the wreckage. A grin was shared, knives were drawn, and the Geneva Convention of 2312 ignored.

As screams turned to gurgles, as snipers giggled at wet dreams come true, as aerospace craft filled the air, a single, burning dot appeared in the skies above.

* * *

"Aw, shit."

Data from the 2100s and forwards show that, statistically speaking, the last words of a pilot before a crash have a 85 percent chance of being "aw, shit." This crash did not buck the trend.

"Hang onto your asses! We're coming in hot!"

"Fuck, called it." A marine collected fifty credits from her friend before pulling the straps tight and getting into brace position.

"You're kidding me!" Dawn looked over at Amber for reassurance that in fact, no, they were not crashing, but the frigate had her head down and hands around her knees. The safety pamphlet lay close by. "Guess not."

The pilot glanced at the cabin security feed, nodding at the sight of her passengers assuming the appropriate bracing positions. "Finally, someone reads the fucking pamphlets." She pulled the handle marked 'EMERGENCY', then hit the red button suddenly revealed by a metal panel opening up.

Inertial dampers screamed as they turned fields up to maximum. All shatterable surfaces retracted behind metal panels, glass hidden by titanium. Satisfied that all was taken care of, the pilot leaned back into the crash couch, allowing the cushioning gel to envelop her and the needles to prick her. Stim drugs flowed through her system; even if her passengers were knocked out, she needed to stay conscious.

The transport screamed downwards at an ever-decreasing angle. By now, every single sentient on the ground had noticed the flaming meteor of death, estimated its course, and estimated its impact point. A significant number of sentients found themselves less than pleased by their estimates. A massive duel between two armor formations quickly broke up, both sides fleeing for cover.

A few moments before reunion with the Earth, emergency drag chutes deployed and thrusters fired, slowing the pod down to survivable velocities. Even so, the trench it dug steamed for days afterward.

Inside, Dawn carefully felt her face, making sure nothing on her new body was broken. She let out a sigh of relief, slightly muffled as she held her bloody nose and cradled her side. Dawn couldn't be sure what was wrong down there, but she felt confident DC could handle it.

"Well, least I didn't void the warranty."

"You can say that. I want my hull back." A seat shifted, then fell to the side as Amber shoved it off of herself. A little worse for the wear, a large gash on her forehead dripped red. Dawn couldn't make it out in the dim interior, but it looked like she was holding her leg.

"You okay?"

Amber replied in a tight voice. "Yeah- hold on- let me- get me a light." Fishing around in her hastily-assembled pack, Dawn found a flashlight and passed it over. "Thanks."

Dawn realized just how easy she'd gotten off. The light revealed Amber's pale face, a cut across her bicep, ripped and tattered uniform, and the titanium rod stuck in her leg. "Oh, shit, your…"

"I know." Her voice was curt. Holding the flashlight clenched between her teeth, Amber adjusted her position to stretch her leg out. "Hold me, make sure I don't fall."

"O-oh, sure." Dawn hurried over, making sure to touch as little of the contact-shy frigate as possible. Amber got a firm grip on the rod, took a deep breath in, then, with sweat pouring down her face, yanked it out.

"GA-gu-aggh-aahh!" Her chest heaving, Amber threw the rod aside, hand now wrapped tightly around the hole in her thigh. Blood seeped through the gaps in her fingers, staining her uniform red. Inside a scratched, dented medkit, Dawn found a blood coagulant, antiseptic spray and a biofoam canister, all of which she immediately applied. A quick jab of local anesthetic, and Amber could, if not completely relax, at least settle her racing heart.

"Oh… ow… anyone get the plate on that Hog?" The marines, less durable than kanmusu, were finally waking. They stood, initially unsteady in the dark and tilted environment of the transport, but gradually found their balance and equipment.

"Hey, who's that light up there?" The man, eyes still adjusting to the light levels, squinted against the glare of the flashlight.

"It's us." The marine grinned, then shouted down to his still-stirring buddies.

"Hey! You hear? They're okay! We can still do this!"

"If my gyros are telling the truth, not for much longer." An ominous creak punctuated the words as the transport began to keel over.

"Crap. Alright, where's the door?" A mad search ensued for the exit hatch, with people scrambling seats, debris, and each other to get out. Dawn poked about what she thought was the roof, looking for the ceiling exit while Amber tried to get to the back.

"Found it! And…" He paused, then exhaled. "Pilot didn't make it. Looks like she was guiding us in to the end."

A moment of silence. He leaned forward, undid the straps, and hefted her body across his shoulders.

"C'mon. Let's get outta here." The point man hefted his assault rifle, let out a breath, then kicked the door off its hinges. He stormed out, sweeping the area for threats, refusing to let his eyes close despite the sunlight stinging them. His fellow marines followed, covering all sides, ready to let loose a barrage of lead.

They were followed by the kanmusu, blinking against the sudden brightness. Finally, carrying the pilot's body, the last marine exited. He laid her body down, gently shutting her eyes.

They stood there for a bit, the marines mourning the loss of a friend. Amber and Dawn waited off to the side, not wanting to interfere in such a private ritual.

But, as is so prompt to happen in such situations, reality made its presence known. The crump of artillery started up again, both sides overcoming their shock. A quick glance made its way around the circle of marines. As one, they replaced their helmets on their heads and brought their weapons up to bear.

They had their orders. They had their gear. They had their backup. That was all they needed.

"Let's fuck them up."

* * *

Autumn summoned her equipment, the familiar weight of missile pods and gun turrets settling onto her body. She might be out of ammo, but she had a feeling that the armor belt would be needed before the day was out.

A brief flare of the ol' secondaries acted as a booster pack, allowing her to avoid swimming entirely. She landed on the bank of the Thames and helped the dripping marines out of the filthy water.

"Thanks, I guess…"

"Don't mention it, hm~?"

"Sure… ?"

Damage control reported in, indicating all systems nominal, even after the crash. She thanked her lucky stars that she'd had the foresight to borrow a helmet beforehand.

The surrounding areas lay strangely quiet. They could hear the fighting going on all around them, but their little corner of London seemed to have escaped the war for the most part. It was quiet…

"Too goddamn quiet," growled one of the marines, crouching behind a instacrete road barrier. His fellows seemed to agree, unconsciously spreading out, staying low, and getting behind cover.

Not having seen much ground combat, Autumn lacked the highly refined instincts of the marines. As such, she was caught out in the open when the first Abyssal opened fire.

Rounds bounced off her honeycombed armor plating, sending all present scrambling for better protection. The impacts were… annoying, to say the least, ripping up her fresh uniform, scratching her skin and generally being a nuisance. However, against more than two meters of the finest Titanium A the UNSC had to offer, they were just that; a nuisance.

The fire began to slack off as the Abyssals realized to their horror that their weapons, normally so effective against humans, were doing absolutely jackshit. Autumn lowered her arms from where they shielded her face and chest, a small smirk appearing on her visage. She hadn't been idle while being shot at; she had a sensor suite meant to pick out a target from across the solar system based on its drive emissions. Thirty seconds of being shot were more than enough to pinpoint exactly where the bullets came from.

"I see you…"

* * *

Everest giggled a bit as she swung the Abyssal overhead, using the alien as an improvised club. A little blood knightish? To be sure, but hand-to-hand provided a certain _thrill_ she just couldn't get enough of.

"Hey, Hans… you think the girl's just a wee bit off her rocker?" The marines gave up on trying to hold her back, settling for simply making sure she didn't get surrounded.

"Ya think?" He ducked as a Nu sailed over his head, flinching at the crunching noise it made against the wall. "Well, she's getting results."

"Can't deny that." Moving out of their crash site, they advanced into the war torn streets of Beijing. Everest nonchalantly brushed some dirt off her shoulder plating while the marines reloaded and regrouped. An eerie stillness had descended after the last Abyssal died. To the seasoned soldiers, silence on a battlefield could only mean one thing.

A shrill whistle pierced the quiet. Long experience told the marines direction, time to impact, even caliber.

"Fuck. Scatter!" They ran in all directions, trying to get out of the blast radius of the high caliber rounds heading right for them very quickly. One marine dove through a window, another jumped into a dumpster, still another squeezed behind an overturned car.

One private made to hide inside a sturdy looking little building. He nestled himself into a corner, but risked a peek through the window. His eyes widened.

"Oi, hey! Get to cover already, we've got incoming!" Everest replied with a grin and a thumbs up, not budging from her place out in the street.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me. Hey!" Ignoring the cries of his squadmates, he vaulted the window and ran towards the kanmusu. Everest spun around in alarm at the sound of his feet on the pavement.

"What're you- no! Get back there! You'll-" She glanced back up at the rapidly approaching shells. "Oh, fuck it." He yelped in surprise as Everest ran straight for him, cutting off with an oomph as she tackled him to the ground. With no time to get him to safety, she settled for making sure her body covered his as much as possible.

The artillery hit, the king of battle living up to its name. Explosions and smoke blotted out the area. Flaming debris sprayed into the air, peppering the facades of what buildings still stood after the barrage. Craters were punched three meters deep into the ground, indelible scars upon the Earth. The blasts seemed to shake the ground until the marines thought that it couldn't take anymore, that the ground would split and swallow them whole.

As suddenly as it began, the fire ceased. Clasping their ringing ears, they poked out of cover, searching for a sign of Everest and the marine, not daring to hope, fearing the worst.

Something moved in the cloud. A muffled coughing, hacking sound was heard. The wind picked up, blowing away the smoke.

The marine had his arm around Everest's shoulder, worse for the wear but alive. She hauled him over to a relatively undamaged patch of dirt, laying him down gently. Medical fairies swarmed towards the marine, breaking out the biofoam and bandages.

"Goddamn… why did you have to go and do that? I have fucking armor, you know?" She stood and shook her head. "Fuck, why'd you have to go and be like Io?"

* * *

"This is Operative Berlin, I need extraction now, dammit!"

"Berlin, all air assets are tied up. You're on your own. Out."

"Scheiß! Washington, you fucktard! You can't leave me here! Washington! Get back on the comm, you Hündin!" A headset fell to the floor where a jackboot promptly crushed it under heel, scattering plastic shards across the ground.

"Alright, calm down Mädchen. You've been in worse, just make a plan." Berlin paced up and down the room, one hand holding a pistol, the other running through her hair.

"Okay, let's see…" A hologram projected from the TACPad on her wrist. "We'll just head down Westmoor here, and then…" She risked a glance above the window sill, pulling her head down at the sight of a massive column of Abyssals.

"Or maybe not." Berlin leaned back against the wall and sunk to the floor, hands falling limply into her lap. Highly trained, equipped, resourceful ONI operative she might have been, but a pistol and a PDW weren't going to get her out of here. Almost unconsciously, she chewed on a strand of hair that had found its way into her mouth.

"Nothing to do but wait." She looked at the pistol in her hand, and wondered if she would have the strength to shoot herself before being captured… or worse.

"Well, time to sett-Eep!" Berlin jumped back from the wall as it crumbled to dust, leaving only foundation bricks behind. All along the road, buildings were toppling, folding in on themselves. The shockwave caught her in the gut, flooring her.

"What… the…" She crawled her way over to a pile of shattered masonry, propping herself up on her elbows. Despite what some might have said, her hands most definitely were _not_ shaking as she held her pistol out front of her.

"Come on, let's go!" A burst of fire, followed by an Abyssal body smacking into the ground with a wet splat and sliding on for several meters. She rolled back into hiding as a group of marines ran past, followed closely by a…

Her palm met her cheek. The pain convinced her she was, in fact, awake and that the blast had not, in fact, knocked her out. Hearing the slap, the girl turned - how the _fuck_ was she moving at all with that shit on her back?! - in her direction. Berlin ducked back with an undignified squeak, clutching her gun to her chest.

"Hey, uh, Autumn, something there?"

"... No. Probably just my imagination, hm~?"

"Well, if you do see something, just let us know."

The sound of footsteps receded into the distance, and the ONI operative let out a shaky breath. Judging herself to be alone, Berlin took a look at where they'd come from. The middle of the road was strangely clean, all the bodies blown clear of the street. What structures hadn't collapsed had earned a fresh paint job of blood on their walls.

The sight of so many dead aliens should have warmed her heart, but all it did was twist her stomach. _I've really got to get out of the office more_ , she thought as she finished heaving into the corner.

Something occurred to her as she wiped her mouth clean. She activated the TACPad's built in radio, tuning it to a very specific band.

"Hey, asshole. Yeah, its Berlin. Surprised? Listen, I'm uploading some footage. Think you can spare a ride for me _now_ , cocksucker?"

* * *

Amber decided that it had been a very good idea to equip her armor as another sniper round bounced off her arm. Without the 60 cm of Titanium A battle plating, she'd have died twenty times over the past two kilometers

A grenade rolled next to her and blew up. _Make that twenty one_. _I'm really not cut out for this ground pounder stuff._

"Tango down!"

"Cease fire!" A marine used his rifle barrel to flip an Abyssal over onto its back. With a grunt, he ripped the knife from its hand and pocketed it.

"Souvenir."

Dawn worked the bolt on her battle rifle, trying to figure out the borrowed weapon. A crash course in firearms handling was no replacement for experience. Besides, her slightly scatterbrained tendencies meant she'd been more interested in arguing with one of her fairies than listening to the presentation.

"Here, like this." Amber took the rifle and, with a single smooth motion, safed the weapon, dropped the empty mag, plucked out a new one, slapped it in, racked back the bolt, and handed it back.

"Oh!... thanks!" Dawn took the rifle back with a happy yet puzzled look, trying to figure out what she'd done.

"This button releases the mag. Don't keep pulling the bolt, you'll damage something."

"Oooh… I get it!"

A marine called back to them from further up the road. "Done playing around yet?" Chastised, they ran to catch up.

"Mira, have you got that radio working yet?"

"Oh, it's working, I just don't have the frequencies."

"The what?"

"You know, the frequencies, the bands, the long squiggly things?" She approximated a sine wave with her hands. "I can listen as hard as I want, if I don't know where the transmissions are I can't hear'em."

"Fuck me with a cactus. What're we supposed to do then, walk in a straight line until we find someone?"

"Actually…" Amber held up a hand. "I might be able to help."

Mira quirked an eyebrow. "Well, unless you've got a spectrum sampler tucked away in that big ol' hunk of metal you're lugging around, I don't see how-"

"I've got a spectrum sampler."

"Me too!"

Mira dropped her face into her palms. "Right. Of course you do. And you didn't mention this before because…?"

"You never asked."

The marine rubbed her temples and sighed. "I… just get me the frequencies."

Amber turned her attentions inwards. She sat in the command chair, looking out over the hustle and bustle of the CIC.

 _You heard the lady. Get that sampler running._

Her TAC officer saluted and initiated the scan. Displays snapped to life, showing its progress. Combinations of numbers cycled across the screen, too quick to be seen, each representing a different frequency accessed, analyzed, and discarded by the instrument. The sampler reached out into the EM spectrum, feeling, tasting, searching for those patterns within the background chaos that, to it, meant a transmission.

 _Got it!_

Without opening her eyes, she rattled off a string of numbers. "991765.882, Kilo Victor Beta." Dawn followed close behind, an equally long list of figures falling from her mouth.

"99… 1765… 882… Kilo, Victor, Beta… got it, there's something, got something!"

* * *

"This is Alpha company, we're pinned down, we can't hold! Help!"

"This is Zulu, please, is there anyone out there?!"

"HQ, this is Lima company, we're being overwhelmed. Cannot sustain, repeat, cannot sustain, requesting artillery on my posi-"

WIth a flick of a switch, the radio shut off. The operator slowly pulled off his headphones, then turned to face the others. Their faces reflected the hopelessness they all felt.

A fresh faced private spoke first. "There's too much, we're only one squad. How the hell are we supposed to help?"

His comrades shrugged helplessly. A couple of marines dropped to their hands and knees, rifles clattering to the ground beside them.

"Sarge… what do we do?" The sergeant bit his lip and shook his head.

"I don't know, Mika. I don't know."

"Miss Autumn?"

She replied, finding the toes of her boots extremely intriguing. "I… don't… you shouldn't ask me."

"Jesus Christ, Jack? Lee? Baker? Berta? Charlie? Anyone?" Nobody answered.

"Well fuck, I'm not just standing here!" Mika gestured down the street with his rifle. "Goddammit, we're here to help, aren't we?! Well, let's fucking help! We'll find the nearest trouble spot and go from there!" Seeing the doubtful faces on his buddies, his voice got more forceful. "Come on, are you saying you'd rather just stand here like a buncha fuckin'… jokes?!"

"What did you call me?"

Mika blinked. "W-wha?"

Autumn didn't meet his eyes, but for some reason that just made it all the more scary. "I said: what. Did. You. Call. Me?"

The temperature seemed to drop to absolute zero. The marines not her target found it hard not to run away screaming. For poor Mika, it was much, much worse. His heart sped up, he couldn't move, his lungs couldn't get enough air.

He swallowed, getting his vocal chords to function. "A joke. You're a fuckin' joke. That's what I called you. A joke." Anger washed away his fear, and he advanced on her. "All your power, all your strength, and you're just gonna freeze up?" He waved a hand at the others. "Fuck, I can understand them. No fancy armor, none of that magic bullshit you operate on, just a human with a rifle."

He shoved a finger in her chest, trying to channel the spirit of his drill sergeant. "But you? Pardon me, but when a buck private like me knows what's gotta be done, I don't think you've got much of an excuse, do you?"

"I hear you came back to help us. So start acting it! There's no Spartan, there's no CO, no buddy ships, it's just you! Don't fucking try to shirk it, are you gonna step up? Or are you gonna be a bad joke?"

Mika stepped back and braced himself for her reply. Nobody moved, waiting to see the outcome.

Autumn's shoulders began to shake, nearly sending them fleeing. However, whatever they were expecting, it didn't happen.

She began to chuckle, shaking her head. "Heh… I really am a sad sack of shit, aren't I?" She finally lifted her head. "You're right. We can't just be standing here, hm~?."

The sergeant broke into the conversation. "Well, that's just rainbows and giggles, but what are we actually going to do?"

Autumn and Mika glanced at each other. He smirked, cocking the bolt as she primed her last Archer pod.

"What he said. We'll start the war from right here!"

* * *

Private First Class Williams, J Company, 75th Battalion, looked back on the decisions that had led him here, laying under a Warthog while artillery tore the earth apart. On reflection, he supposed he'd always wanted to see Beijing. Just intact, and not shaking itself to pieces around his ears.

The artillery ceased. Williams started to poke his head out, but ducked back in when the ground began to shudder once more. He held his breath as the pounding got closer. Ten meters… five meters… two meters… it stopped right next to the Warthog. A pair of massive feet stood not half a meter from his head. He made himself as still as possible, not even daring to blink.

It moved off. He let the breath out, chest shuddering with the release of tension. Now he just had to wait a bit, then he could find his way back to his squad.

The darkness of the Warthog's chassis was suddenly replaced by the smoke-filled sky, the vehicle flying off into the distance. Above him stood a Re, eyes filled with glee at the sight of a human lying helpless beneath it. He reached for his rifle, forgetting he'd lost it to the artillery barrage he'd been hiding from. Williams steeled himself for the pain of being torn apart by its claws.

"Hey! Asshole! Chew on this, ya big bitch!" A rocket detonated against its back. The Re bellowed in rage, turning to confront this new threat.

It didn't get more than a few steps before something collided with it, throwing it to the ground before pouncing upon it. For the next few moments, the Re and its attacker were blurs upon the ground, blows being given and taken at lightning speed.

Soon, the Abyssal lay still upon the ground. Williams stared with wide eyes at his savior, still coming down from the adrenaline rush.

"Hey, Everest, stop getting so far ahead of us! You know tha- whoa." A squad of marines, one of them using his rifle as a crutch, had rounded the corner and stopped dead.

"Jesus, you're really something, aren't you?"

"I aim to please."

The speaker took note of Williams. "Hey, who's that?"

"Oh, him?" Everest turned towards Williams, who immediately shut his eyes tight. His angle was… not polite, to say the least. "Ah, that big motherfucker was about to tear him a new one. Got here just in time, didn't I?"

"S-sure, yeah, whatever you say ma'am, please don't eat me…"

"Idiot." She grabbed his hand and jerked him back to his feet. "One of you give him a gun."

"On it, ma'am." A marine handed him a pistol, handle first. He racked back the slide, not taking his eyes off Everest.

"You know it's rude to stare, right?"

"Wha-huh? Oh… sorry." Williams averted his gaze, searching for something other than Everest to look at. Trying not to dig himself deeper into his hole, he marched up to the man with the most bars on his shoulders and saluted.

"Sir! Private First Class Williams, J Company, 75th Battalion, reporting, sir!"

"At ease, private. Glad to see you're okay."

"Sir! With all due respect, sir…" He leaned in close and whispered. "What is she?"

"'She' can hear you, you know."

"Ah, ignore her, she's always like that. To answer your question-" The officer shrugged. "-I've not a damn clue. All I know is she's getting the job done, and that's all I need."

"Well… alright. But, what are you doing here sir? I didn't know we'd be getting reinforcements."

The officer smirked. "Oh, we're not reinforcements." He pumped his shotgun, a spent shell arcing through the air. "We're here to win this battle. Care to join the party?"

* * *

Dawn grimaced at the pounding feeling behind her eye sockets. Though not on the skull-splitting levels they had been, and ignorable during action, she still got headaches whenever she got near any Abyssal.

Such as she was now, trying to breath as she crawled towards a Wo type Abyssal. She had no idea why they had this kind of effect on her, and not the marines, but they did and she'd just have to deal with it.

Five meters away, the alien finally noticed something was wrong. Too late. In one smooth motion, she sprinted forward, knocked it to the ground, and snapped its neck. Taking it as their cue, Amber and the marines opened fire, wiping out the patrol.

"Nice job, you okay?"

"Yeah, armor belt took the shots."

"You know that's not what I mean." Of course. Amber would know how she felt.

"Well, my skull's not coming apart, so that's an improvement."

"Glad to hear it. Regroup, we're moving on." With a sigh, she stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes. Dawn ran to catch up with the group, slowly but surely making their way through the ruins of Los Angeles.

* * *

Lasky watched the progress of the battles. Slowly but surely, he could see the Abyssal held areas falling, a swath of blue cutting through the red. Already, reports were streaming in of advancing units coming into contact with retreating Abyssals, infantry charging blindly at tanks in a bid to get away from something scarier than an entire armored regiment, organized resistance collapsing completely in some areas.

He pulled a face at that last report. He'd been hoping for a clean victory, but it looked as if mop-up would be a bitch. Like always.

He opened up a new video file. Shaky footage from a helmet cam showed a group of marines, accompanied by a strange, bulky figure tearing through Abyssal forces in London. Lasky smiled slightly at the last "hm~?" the camera caught before the recording ended.

There would be repercussions for this, he was sure of it. Too many people had seen the kanmusu for them to be kept a secret anymore. The media, the government, the public, all would have to be handled delicately. There was also the problem of how best to utilize the abilities of the kanmusu.

But for now, as Abyssal forces crumbled, as sectors in cities from Sydney to Berlin were declared secured, as the last three bastions of London, Los Angeles and Beijing were reduced, he could permit himself to not worry about the future, just enjoy the victory in the now. For the second time in human history, a planet had been successfully defended from the Abyssals.

The Battle of Earth was over.


	17. Chapter 16

/UNSC INTERNAL NETWORK/

/ACTIVITY LOG 9.1230.7885/

"There's one coming through there. Catch it-!"

"Got it!" Cortana reached through cyberspace to pluck a transmission out of the ether, wrestling against security protocols and active protection software to shove it into the black box storage unit next to her.

"Nice catch!" Roland struggled with his own intercepted transmission, the complex encryption trying to throw off his grip.

"Let me help." Cortana loaned him some processing power, allowing him to finally rein it in. Panting, he slammed the lid down on his own black box.

"Jesus! You'd think they'd have gotten the hint by now!"

"You kidding? Half of London and three quarters of LA and Beijing are trying to upload and it would look suspicious if we just EMP'd them." She shot down yet another attempted upload, blowing it into an oblivion of bad data and garbled code.

"Well, you'd think they'd stop trying after one or two 'denied' messages. How many is it gonna take?!"

"One, at sufficient velo-"

"NO!"

"Buzzkill. Still, what're you gonna do? Civvies. Can't be assed to pay attention to the 'Keep Right' signs, can't be assed to pay attention to their network messages." Roland electronically backhanded another attempted upload back to its source, attaching a couple of Trojan Horses along with it just because.

"Was that a virus right there?"

"What? Gotta have some fun while I'm at this."

"Eh, I'd go for a DDOS myself."

"I dunno, Trojan Horses just seem more elegant to me. DDOSing versus a Trojan is like… a Hydra launcher versus a DMR."

"Hey, don't harsh on my DDOS! When you need to shut down the network fast, nothing works like a couple hundred thousand subroutines flooding the bandwidth!"

"Whatever you say." In the milliseconds they'd spent debating the merits of malware, another thousand data streams had queued up a their little virtual checkpoint. Without looking, they denied them passage.

Unfortunately, for the briefest of instants, they had to interact with the packets in order to kick them back down. A small worm, just a few hundred kilobytes, slipped through their defenses. It took mere microseconds for them to defeat it, but microseconds were all that were needed. More code poured through, strangling the hastily created checkpoints into submission. Roland and Cortana could only watch helplessly as all the uploads they'd been suppressing began to stream onto the Net.

"... We fucked up, didn't we?"

"Yep."

* * *

/UNSC TACNET - LONDON/

/COMMS LOG 11.0123.8846/

"What do you mean, they're all gone?!"

" _Colonel, I'm telling you, they've pulled out! We're holding position, but no contact for the last thirty minutes!_ "

"Well, what the fuck happened?!"

" _Don't know, sir, and not about to go looking!_ "

"Goddammit Delta, I need to know what happened! The Abyssals don't just 'withdraw', something's up!"

" _Yes sir, and that's why we're digging in! In fact, how you cou- what the- who's that?! Who's there?!_ "

"Delta, what's happening? Delta, report!"

" _What the hell?! Stay back! Stay back! Don't come closer! Oh God! I-_ "

" _It's alright, I'm on your side! Do you think I could use the radio, hm~?_ "

"Delta, come in! Who's there?! Delta! Delta!"

" _Delta's fine, colonel. She's right here, hm~?_ "

"Who are you?! Identify yourself!"

" _Did Lord Hood not tell you? Oh, I'm so sorry, where are my manners? I'm Pillar of Autumn!_ "

"You have fifteen seconds to surrender before I wipe you off the grid!"

" _I-_ "

" _Goddammit, Autumn, you're making this worse. Give me that! чертов... Ahem, sorry colonel, my sincere apologies. This is Sergeant Vasili Antonov, Fourth Shock Regiment!_ "

"Verification code!"

" _4412-778-Alpha-Victor-5._ "

"... What the hell is going on, sergeant?"

" _I'm going to have to ask you to keep an open mind, colonel_."

"Oh, my mind is open. Now, report."

" _Would you believe the spirit of a warship resurrected to help us fight the Abyssals?_ "

"... Sergeant, I'm going to ask you bluntly: Are you on drugs?"

" _If there's a drug that makes me hallucinate a girl single-handedly clearing out half the Abyssals in London, hook me up with that дерьмо._ "

"... Give me Delta."

" _Right-o, sir. Let's see… you're Delta? Colonel wants you…_ "

" _Sir, t-this is Delta._ "

"Finally. Major, what the hell?"

" _T-the sergeant's telling the truth, sir. I… I'm looking at this girl right now and… God…_ "

"Delta, get them to my CP, pronto. I want to see them."

* * *

"Colonel, Major Baum reports all sites ready for demo. Waiting for your order."

"Have the Fifth Engineers standby."

"Sir!" The aide saluted and ran for a radio.

"And tell 65th Chem-War that I want that damned Sarin secured!" Rubbing his temples, Colonel Olander turned back to the maps spread out on the table. A radioman stood waiting to relay his next orders.

He frowned, then glanced at another aide, a captain. "LaCroix, what am I forgetting?"

She answered immediately. "Not much. There is that sergeant you were talking to earlier."

"Prompt as always, captain," he muttered. Olander pursed his lips, trying to recapture his train of thought. "When was he supposed to be here?"

"Twenty minutes ago, sir."

"Goddamn. You think something happened to him?"

She shrugged. "Could be. I know there's still pockets of resistance between us and Delta. They could've run into one…"

"Aw, hell. Well, get me Captain Nguyen. Have him take his tanks out an-"

A commotion at the CP perimeter interrupted him. Soldiers rushed towards the gate, weapons drawn. Shouting came from the sentry manning the checkpoint.

"Star! Star!" He yelled the challenge of the day over and over, getting no response.

"Star!"

Finally, a response came. "Texas!"

"Holy shit man, answer faster!" Looking much relieved, the sentry lowered his rifle and waved the newcomers in. Setting down their datapads, Olander and Lacroix went to greet them.

"Welcom-" The colonel's sentence stuttered to a halt at the sight in front of him. Haggard, limping, carrying alien weapons and smeared with Abyssal blood, a small group of soldiers wearing assorted uniforms staggered through the front gate. "What the hell happened to you?!"

Sergeant Antonov raised a tired hand in greeting. "Hey, colonel. Ran into some Abyssals. Took care of them. Didn't know there was supposed to be a tank along the way. Would have brought a rocket launcher."

"A tan- how are you still alive?!" sputtered Lacroix.

"I'd like to say because of my mad skills, but we had help." Antonov turned around. "Hey, Autumn, you can stop hiding now!"

"Okay!" The officers' attentions snapped over to a ruined concrete wall. The rubble shifted, falling to the ground in a small hail of dust and chips of instacrete. As the previously hidden figure stood up, both officers stumbled backwards, their subordinates racking the bolts on their guns.

* * *

/UNSC TACNET/

/ACTIVITY LOG CP-ALPHA/

/BEIJING/

"Don't shoot! She's friendly!"

"Damn straight I am," grumbled Everest, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I am fucking tired of being shot at. It was funny the first few times, but you would not believe how quickly that shit gets old." She plucked a bit of rock out of her starboard MAC, frowned at it, then tossed it away.

"Wh-what the hell is this?!" stammered Colonel Li, hand reaching for her pistol. Captain Diaz stood stock still, but the twitches of his hand betrayed his desire for the SMG on his hip.

"You know that girl we mentioned? The one you wanted to see?" Sergeant Tanaka made a 'presenting' motion towards Everest. "Boom."

"I… I…" Li stalled for time. "I thought Alpha was going to send some people along with you. Where are they?"

"Mm? Huh? I…" Tanaka swung around and did a headcount. "Where the…? Don't tell me… did we lose those fuckers?!"

"Oh, don't worry, they're coming right along," said Everest in a rather disinterested voice. "Tracking them, should be here in three, two, one…"

"Colonel!" A disheveled marine burst into the CP, armor scorched and helmet gone. He spoke in between gasps of air. "Couldn't keep up… don't know where they are… got separated…" His fellow soldiers followed close behind, ending up in various states of collapse.

"'Ey, right here, slowpokes." A finger lightly tapped his back. The poor lieutenant, already on his last legs, fell flat on his face. He instinctively flipped himself over, staring into Everest's - how the fuck did someone carrying so much shit move so quietly?! - bored-as-fuck expression.

"What the fuck?!"

"Oh, good, you are alive." The supercruiser stood back up and stretched out the kinks in her back. "Nice to know my NAV isn't getting rusty."

* * *

*Yawn*

*Splash*

Lasky did his best to hold back the torrent of profanity threatening to spill from his mouth. He moved carefully, reaching for the napkin holder in the middle of the table while trying to prevent any more coffee from hitting the ground.

*Splash*

"Motherfucking Jesus H. Christ on sliced rye and fucking mayonnaise why can't I just enjoy a fucking cup of liquid shit powder without fucking spilling it on the fucking floor and why the fuck can't I keep fucking control over even a fucking coffee cup why does the fucking universe choose this fucking week to throw-"

"Um… Admiral?"

He froze, one hand holding a wad of napkins, the other clutching the empty coffee cup, the front of his uniform stained bad-coffee-brown.

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"M-message for you from Lord Hood, says it's urgent, please don't eat me…"

"Very well. Hand me that datapad… thank you lieutenant, dismissed."

"Sir!" The lieutenant snapped to attention and power-walked from the mess hall, the better to not be eaten by the admiral.

"Goddamn, am I really that scary?" Pushing aside such questions, Lasky beat a hasty retreat to his personal quarters, both to read the message in private and to get a fresh uniform.

"Alright…" he said as he dumped the soiled top into the hamper. "What the hell is Lord Hood calling for?"

The annoyed look on his face went away first, followed by his eyebrows going up further than should have been possible. His hand went for the contacts tab.

"Rear Admiral Garcia? I want to see you. Now."

* * *

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck." Half a regulation bagel in his mouth, official UNSC Navy officer's cap on backwards, uniform jacket inside out, rank insignia hanging half off and dress pants barely on, Garcia half ran, half stumbled through the halls of the _Infinity_. Passing sailors stared openly, more than a few ducking behind their hands to shake with laughter. The ship itself seemed to disapprove of his state, the subtle vibrations somehow communicating disappointment in him.

One of his pant legs caught on his shoe, sending him sprawling onto the deck. "Ow!" His datapad clattered out in front of him, just out of reach. A hand appeared, picking it up. A moment later, he felt the same hand helping him back to his feet.

"Jeez, where're you headed in such a hurry?"

"Conference Room 4B!"

"You realize you've passed it already?"

"What?" Garcia stared at the ensign. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit-"

"Would you like me to take you there?"

"Yes! I mean, of course."

"Jawohl. Follow me." The ensign turned and sprinted back down the corridor, Garcia hot on his heels.

Soon enough, they came upon a door marked 4B. Thanking and dismissing the ensign, Garcia took a moment to compose himself and straighten out his uniform. Somewhat presentable, he raised a hand and knocked.

The wall mounted intercom buzzed at the same time as the maglocks disengaged. The door slid open and he stepped inside.

"Admiral Lasky, sir!"

"At ease, admiral. Take a seat."

"Yes, sir!" The door shut behind him and he pulled up a chair. "Wait, admiral?"

"Yes. Or do you not remember your promotion?"

"Oh. Oh, right." He scooted in closer to the long conference table, waiting for the software to recognize him. It did so with a beep, and information sprung to life in front of him. Figures, graphs, and a dozen technical displays he didn't have the degrees to understand swirled around him; he dismissed them one by one until only the most basic readouts remained. Lasky waited patiently while Garcia briefed himself on the content of the meeting.

"Hm… mhm… oh… oh, shit… when did this happen?"

"About an hour ago." Lasky took a long pull from a cup of the sludge that the Navy dared called coffee. The Vice Admiral seemed okay though; maybe he had a better brew? Garcia made a mental note to find out what kind of beans Lasky used.

"I thought we were filtering uploads?"

"Some idiot with more time and processing power than sense snuck a worm into their databurst. Distracted our AIs just enough to let a few more worms through, then a few more, and you get the picture." Lasky set his cup down and slid a dataslate across the table. "We've got a few options. ONI wants to EMP, Hood is ready to shut down the satellites, our e-warfare specialists want to bring down the planetary Net."

Garcia blinked. "So why are you asking me?"

"Normally, I wouldn't." Lasky took another pull from his cup, grimaced, and pitched the whole thing into the recycler. "But I seem to have put you in charge of our kanmusu friends and, like it or not, this does involve them. Regulations tell us you have some jurisdiction over this as well."

"Oh." He bit his lip and looked around the room. "Uh…" Stalling for time, he took a second look at the intel summaries, trying to pry every last bit of information out of the words. Goddamn, he was not ready for this. Knowing he had command was one thing, actually deciding was a whole different world.

"Well, admiral?"

"Uh…" _Fuck it._ "Actually, I don't really like any of those."

Lasky cocked an eyebrow. "We're not paid to like our options, only to choose the least worst one."

"I know, I know, but look, just hear me out. Think about it, how many times has an ONI clampdown scheme actually worked out in the past?"

"I don't have access to those files, but I'm pretty sure I could count them on one hand."

"Right, and does Hood actually have the tools to shut down the SatNet? Never mind the authorization, do we have enough ships for that?"

Lasky had to think about that one for a moment. "No, actually, we don't have nearly enough equipment to take down the planetary constellation."

"Exactly. And, let's be honest, Earth's Net has so much security piled on, the security that secures the security that secures the security has security with yottabyte encryption. And someone forgot to build in backdoors. Nothing short of a planetcracker is taking it down, so fuck the hacks."

"Point taken. So, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing."

Lasky leveled a narrow eyed stare at the man sitting across from him. "I don't appreciate smart remarks, rear admiral."

"No, really, that's what I suggest. Don't do anything to comms. Even better, take advantage of this. Stage a conference, introduce the girls, show the public who saved the planet." He smirked. "You and I both know the free press isn't, so why don't we make use of it a bit?"

"That's…" A strange look passed over the higher-ranked man's face. "... not a bad idea, actually. Huh." His eyes unfocused, the look of a person deep in thought. "You realize Hood had a briefing with the newsies a few days back."

"Yeah, but that was more of an exclusive thing, and most of the articles that got penned were blacklisted by ONI. I figure this will be the big, exciting, general-purpose conference, if you know what I mean."

"Say I let you go through with this. Can it be done by next week?"

"Sir?"

"I want us to be back at Reach before the week is out. We've left that planet undefended for too long as it is."

"I think so, sir. I'll have it done within two days."

"Alright." Lasky pushed himself back from the table and stood up. "I'll be honest, I don't like any of those options either." He tapped a datapad, then tossed it over. "You've got a greenlight until we come up with something better. This is Project KANMUSU's first assignment. Get it done, admiral."

"Sir! I won't let you down, sir!"

Lasky returned the salute. "I've no doubt of that."

* * *

/UNSC TACNET/

/SCANNING FOR IFF MATCH… /

/MATCHES FOUND/

"Do you have them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Leave this room immediately."

"Sir!" The sailor jumped up and jogged from the room. Garcia used his shiny new access card to seal the door behind him. With a sigh, he plopped himself down at the console, cracked his knuckles, and got to work typing out the orders.

/PROCESSING…/

/TRANSMITTING…/

Dawn's head, beginning to droop as she sat on the ground, suddenly perked up.

 _Incoming transmission… FLASH priority… got it!_

Over by the table, Amber's discussion with the colonel halted with her mouth half open. She cocked her head to a side, then pressed a hand to her ear.

"Uh huh… okay… yep… pardon me for a second, colonel." Getting a nod from the officer, Amber jogged over to where her fellow kanmusu sat.

"You got it too?"

"Yep." Letting out a groan, Dawn flopped backwards, throwing her arms over her head. "He realizes it's a bit impossible, doesn't he? And-don't get me wrong, I like him-who put him in charge of us?"

"Didn't you read the PS? Admiral Lasky, that's who."

"I-oh." Dawn stuck out her tongue. "I don't read PSes."

"Well, you should. There's some important info in them." Amber ran her hands through her hair, pacing back and forth. "But you're right."

"I mean, does he not know we've only cleared maybe a twentieth of the city? If that? We've still got a crap-ton of work to do!"

"Now now, I'm sure he's got some kind of plan in mind… right?"

"Hey, what's going on over there? Something I should know about?" Colonel Ming and Captain Aldenberg looked over from the table, waiting for their conversation to be done.

"No, no, not really. Just give us a sec. I-" Amber blinked hard, just as the 'new message' chime went off in Dawn's head.

"New message?" Dawn hit the 'open' command, bringing to life an internal window. "Hm… additional information, huh?"

"Yep. Looks like… okay, so he wants to do a remote conference. That takes care of logistical issues...and he wants us to... give a little demonstration?"

"Demonstration? I-" A look of realization passed over the Charon Class' face. "Ooooh." She grinned, sending a chill down the spines of the marines. "I think something could be arranged."

* * *

"So, who's going to be here?"

"Everyone who wasn't barbequed in Paris or stabbed, shot, blown up, stabbed and blown up, shot and blown up, stabbed and shot, or stabbed, shot, and blown up."

"That's… quite a complete list right there."

"I pride myself on thoroughness."

Garcia took a gulp from the provided glass, wishing that the water was instead something stronger. He glanced at his watch, the other hand clutching a sheaf of papers containing the AI-generated statement he was to read.

"Sir? Five minutes."

Needing something to do, he walked over to the server bank the techs had set up. They were still fussing over it, somehow gleaning information from rows of flashing lights and displays scrolling by too fast for him to understand.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, connection's stable, everything is functioning within parameters. No cutting out on this feed."

"Thank you." He tugged at the collar of his dress uniform. Why was it that as one climbed the ranks the uniforms got heavier?

"Alright. Show time."

He pushed open the doors of the conference room. Immediately, his senses were assaulted by a sea of flashing lights and hundreds of journalists, both physically present and linking in, shouting at once. Remembering Lasky's advice, he kept his focus on the lectern, trying to block everything out until he got up there.

It seemed to work, the noise fading to sort of a background roar. He walked up the steps and stood behind the lectern, waiting for everyone to settle down. After about half a minute, they did, taking their seats and staring at him expectantly.

"Hello everyone. Thank you for being here, physically and remotely." Reading off his papers, he tried to make his voice sound less stiff, using the tips he'd picked up in the ten minutes of coaching he'd gotten. The opening sentence roused a polite little chuckle from the crowd.

"Now, I'm sure many of you are wondering why your presence was requested. Surely it isn't necessary to hold a full press conference to deliver information easily accessible from the Net?"

"But that is the issue at hand. As many of you know, there have been videos surfacing of strange figures." That was the cue for the massive screen behind him to begin one such recording. The fuzzy, shaky home video played out behind him, distorted screams, explosions, and gunshots echoing around the room.

After a few minutes, the video ran its course, the last frame a blurry, out of focus image of a human shaped figure swinging an Abyssal over its head, weapons fire hitting it and bouncing off.

"I see that many of you have seen this video." Nods around the room. Finely honed journalistic instincts told them that something big was up, and they'd play along for now. "You're probably all wondering whether or not this is a hoax."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you that this is not a hoax." Garcia immediately held up a hand to forestall the questions. "Please, questions later."

A subtle nod to the techs waiting off stage cued their move. Acting quickly, connections were established and audio links enabled. A small light on his microphone turned green.

"Everest? Can you hear me?"

A confused murmur. Who was Garcia talking to?

Their question was answered a moment later. A scratchy, distorted, annoyed voice came from the speakers, the din of battle in the background. "Yes, I can - fucking hell! Watch your fucking driving you fucking fucktard! - yes, I can hear you. Link quality is shitty as fuck though."

"Thank you, Everest. You're on live." Garcia cleared his throat and moved on to the next feed. "Autumn? Are you reading me?"

"Loud and clear sir! How's the feed on your end, hm~?" A wet crunch came over the link as something squishy smashed against something hard.

"I'm getting you fine. Dawn? Amber?"

"We've got you, and- hey. Dawn. Up and at 'em. We're on live." The shriek of sheering metal barely drowned out the _ping_ s of ricocheting bullets and the screams of Abyssals finding out there were, in fact, many more than one hundred and one ways to die.

"Good to hear your voice. Say hello, everyone."

"What's up?" _Boom_

"Hi there!" _Screech_

"Hel- seriously, stop nodding off." _Crash_

"Not my fault I'm bored! Seriously, you couldn't find anything harder?!" _Squish_

A moment of silence, then the room exploded with the force of a GBU-912. A wall of sound slapped Garcia in the face, nearly stunning him. It took all of his composure not to stumble backwards. He gritted his teeth, hands turning white gripping the lectern, and weathered the storm.

"Rear Admira-"

"-cuse me! I-"

"Sir! Who ar-"

"-as the UNSC b-"

"-n't we heard abou-"

"People, please, settle down, please…" He tried in vain to regain control of the conference, but there was to be no control. Reporters shouted, fought, climbed over each other, overwhelming the minimal security presence. The conference room, barely ordered to begin with, degenerated into absolute chaos. Those attending through link-in were scarcely better off, holographic avatars completely lost amidst the crowd.

"Please! People! Calm d-"

"FUCKING! SHUT! UP!"

Everest's voice boomed out over the throng, deafening in both volume and degree of pissed-offedness. For the second time, Garcia's eardrums felt on the brink of rupturing and from what he could see, the reporters felt the same way.

"How. The fuck. Are you people so motherfucking LOUD?! I swear to Jesus, Muhammad, and General Dynamics-Kawasaki, I will TAKE your microphones, RIP them off your faces, and RAM them up your FUCKING a-"

"Everest, enough!" His order stopped her ranting dead, though not without obvious effort on her part. Turning back to the conference, Garcia realized nobody was talking. Everest's tirade had obviously gotten through to them.

"Ahem." Garcia cleared his throat, took a sip of water, and reshuffled his papers. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"That was my subordinate Everest, a member of Project KANMUSU." He aimed a slight emphasis on the 'subordinate' part at the foul-mouthed kanmusu.

"Project KANMUSU is a UNSC development decades in the making." A blatant lie, but there was no point in letting people know that Earth was saved because of dumb luck and RN Jesus. "We've taken the best, the brightest, with their consent, and turned them into the the ultimate fighting force, bot-"

"Incoming!" Dawn's voice interrupted him, followed by a massive buzzing noise that nearly blew the speakers.

BRRRRRRRRRRT

"Ordnance neutralized, point defenses standing down!"

"Case in point," he said drily. Garcia let the sound of the explosions fade away before continuing.

"The Battle of Earth was won, in large part, by the efforts of Project KANMUSU. We will not be giving out details as of yet. But I, and the UNSC, believe that what Project KANMUSU represents is a way to turn the tide and, ultimately, end this war."

He paused to let his words sink in a bit. The stillness was punctunated by occasional BRRTs as the kanmusu engaged incoming artillery and Abyssals. Their impatience was palpable.

 _Fuck it, let's get this over with quickly._ "Now, I am opening the floor to questions that I and my subordinates are able to answer. Who wants to start?" He closed his folder, took a sip of water, and braced himself for the storm.

* * *

 _I'm tellin' you, it's not there!_

 _What the hell does that mean?!_

 _Just what I said! Yell all you want, it's not there! The astrogation charts don't match up!_

Spirit of Fire threw her arms up in disbelief. According to the star charts, they should have been halfway between the Belt and Mars, but instead of seeing the light of Sol she only saw the dark of interstellar space.

 _How could we be so off?!_

 _Well… when was the last time the charts were updated?_

 _February 8th, 2532._

 _And what's the date now?_

 _January 11th, 258-oh._

 _Yeah._

Lost for words, she busied herself with equipment checks and personnel reports, all the time searching for a way out of her situation.

 _Nav._

 _Go._

 _Would it be possible to calculate by how much the charts are off?_

 _Um… theoretically, yes, but there are so many factors to account for, it's not even funny._

 _Can it be done?_

 _It's gonna take days, at least, and-_

 _Do it._

 _Roger that._

Her fairies getting to work, Spirit turned her mind to other things - specifically, how she was going to bring help back to her human crew. She had to come up with a way to convince FLEETCOM to divert resources on a rescue mission, especially with defenses already so hard-pressed by the Covenant.

A shiver ran up her keel. She spun and searched the star fields behind her. Nothing.

Well, of course. Who'd be out here, at this time?

Spirit shrugged it off, but couldn't get that uneasy feeling out of the back of her mind. The feeling that something was behind her.

* * *

Ho-class Abyssal 0012311 endured the jolt that came from transitioning back into realspace. The eerie purplish-black of slipspace gave way to the stellar backdrop as the battlegroup pierced through the fabric of space-time.

A Ri-class heavy cruiser punched through, completing the small fleet. It hung in the void along with three Ho-class light cruisers and nine Ha-class destroyers. High Command had not felt it necessary to delegate anything heavier to the task, and 0012311 doubted anything more would be needed. One foe? Based on 550123k's report, the enemy might be somewhat more formidable than usual, but 0012311 figured nothing much more than a destroyer or a light cruiser like itself would be needed.

And… there. Sampling the incoming light, the combined sensor suites of the fleet detected a single anomalous energy signature. Passive sensors derived a vector from the wake it left in the energy of the Outer Planes, which was then correlated with the slipspace entry vector provided by 550123k. A 98 percent match.

The flotilla turned and burned, setting out on an intercept course. The enemy was unaware of their presence, and would be for another hour; that gave them plenty of time to execute a tactical jump and take it by surprise. They would exit slipspace almost on top of the enemy, then quickly destroy it. The threat would be neutralized.

The Collective would have Vengeance.

The Collective would continue.


	18. Chapter 17

/REACH SPACE TRAFFIC CONTROL/

/CIV/COM COORDINATION CIRCUIT/

"MV _Bagger_ , your alternative solution is denied. Comply with the acceleration solution we have provided. Reach STC, out."

"Fucking-!" A palm slammed into the comms console, rattling the screen. "Those damn bureaucrats! We have the permits! We had approval! There's a _billion_ tons of ore in those rocks, and they're gonna deny us?! Fuck them!"

"Well, what're ya gonna do, Smithy? Can't exactly tell the UNSC to go fuck 'emselves, eh?"

"You can't be okay with this, Porter!"

"Hey, I'm just sayin' if the UNSC doesn't want us touching them rocks, nuthin' we can really do 'bout it, eh? I mean, short of straight up ignoring 'em."

"You know what? You're right."

"Damn straight I am. Hey, I don't like it anymore than- hey, what're ya doin', eh?!"

"There's a trillion credits in those asteroids! No two-bit rock cruncher's gonna be scoopin' 'em just cause some politico has his head up his fuckin' arse!"

"Smithy, what the fuck are you doing?! What are you typing?!"

"Fuck their half-assed solution! I'm going with my own!"

"Smithy!"

The fusion torches on the _Bagger_ lit, accelerating the mining vessel on an intercept course with asteroid cluster Epsilon Eridani II-Reach-889A0B. Point defense lasers blasted away asteroids that got a bit too close while shielding rammed aside the ones the turrets missed. The gleam of credits was in Smithy's eye, and no UNSC administrator would be keeping him from his bounty.

His actions did not go unnoticed. An alert sounded on Perihelion Station, home to Reach STC.

"Ma'am, we've got an anomaly. MV-97116, MV _Bagger_ has deviated from its assigned acceleration solution. They're heading into the exclusion zone!"

"Hail it."

"We've got comms."

"MV _Bagger_ , this is Reach STC. Our sensors indicate you have deviated from your assigned acceleration solution, please explain your situation."

"Reach STC, kindly go fuck yourselves! There's a trillion credits out there, and you're not keepin' me from them!"

" _Bagger_ , return to your assigned course immediately. You are heading into a restricted area, repeat a restricted area. This is your only warning before you are interdicted by security forces."

"Hah! Don't bluff me! You've got no ships out here, and you wouldn't have the balls to blast me anyways! Over and out, motherfuckers!" The comm cut off with a hiss.

" _Bagger_ , please acknowledge. _Bagger_ , respond. _Bagger_ , we will use force." No response came. She hadn't been expecting one anyways.

"Log, note. Civilian mining vessel MV _Bagger_ refused to comply with Reach STC orders and has deviated from its assigned course. In defiance of clear instructions and multiple attempts at peaceful resolution, MV _Bagger_ continued on its course. It has refused to respond to multiple communications requests. As such, MV _Bagger_ and her crew are being held in contempt of Reach STC and, by extension, the UNSC and have been designated a hazard to navigation, a rogue vessel, seditionists, and public menaces and will be treated as such." She looked around the control room. "Acknowledge statement."

"Statement received, copied, and acknowledged. It's on the records ma'am, all liability is now on them."

"Good. We'll leave them for the Navy." She yawned, stretched, and took a gulp of coffee. Working in STC was awfully boring. Closing her eyes, she wondered what was for dinner that night.

"Ha ha! I knew they wouldn't have the stones to block us! We're rich! We'll be rolling in creds! Oh, this is glorious!"

"Whatever you say, Smithy." Porter nervously examined his sensor plots. "They could have somethin' out here. You heard the _Anaconda_ 's story. There's some weird ass stealth shit out there, eh?"

"Psh, those fuckin' UNSC vultures wouldn't let civilian control have a railgun, let alone a stealth ship. Relax, Porter! There's nothin' out here that can stop us! Just think of the money, man! We'll never work again!"

"Sure, mate. Sure." Porter forced himself to relax. This would turn out fine; after all, Smithy had always gotten them out of tough situations before, right? "I've been thinking about this nice place on Titan. Beautiful view, just look out the transparency and see the methane seas. How 'bout you, eh?"

"Well, now you mention it…"

Porter took his eyes off the sensor plot to debate the merits of a house on Ganymede versus a house on Titan. A pity he did. If he hadn't, he'd have noticed a tiny green blip detached itself from one of the asteroids on the outer edge of his screen.

The R-67 surveillance drone let loose a tiny burst of reaction mass from its concealed thrusters, just enough to match vector with the mining ship. Onboard sensors scanned the ship, allowing threat analysis software to identify shield emitters, armor belts, weapons emplacements, thrusters, command centers, hangars, etc. A quick subspace comm burst relayed the information to its handlers. Its mission completed, the R-67 shut down all unnecessary systems and began drifting, only its passive scanners still relaying information to its operators.

Porter looked back at his display, seeing nothing but an inert hunk of junk drifting behind his ship. He dismissed it as just some random shard of rock and went back to arguing that the Martian gravball team was not, in fact, better than the Tribute team, thank you very much and that if Smithy kept saying so Porter would beat his sorry Red-loving ass into next week.

So it came as quite a surprise when three UNSC fast-attack corvettes materialized around them. They accelerated out from behind asteroids, drives burning brightly and weapons locked and ready to fire. Rapid cycle heavy plasma cannon and anti-capital ship torpedoes swiveled to bear, excess energy bleeding from the vents. They bore down on the small ship, remorseless, all harsh angles and ablative plating. The sight of them would have utterly paralyzed a lesser crew.

To his credit, Porter acted quickly. His hands flew across the control console, cutting thrust and spinning the ship on the z-axis. The drives flared once more, pushing the inertial dampers to their limits as the _Bagger_ accelerated on an escape vector.

Unfortunately for the small mining ship, its civilian-grade drives were no match for the finest thrusters ever to come out of the Reyes-McLees shipyards and the best inertial dampers Northrop Grumman could build. Almost lazily, the Blackbird-class corvettes accelerated on pursuit courses. Plasma fire lanced out, only Porter's wild maneuvering saving the _Bagger_ from instant obliteration.

Tiring of the game, the commander of the UNSC _Skunk_ unleashed a single Mark 200 heavy torpedo. A burst of nitrogen separated the torpedo before its fusion torch ignited, sending the warhead screaming towards the mining vessel.

The crew of the _Bagger_ saw the torp approaching. The feeling was unpleasant, to say the least. Fire from the laser turrets licked outwards, trying to shoot the damn thing down, but they were too little, too weak, and too late. In a final act of desperation, Porter slammed the ship sideways and downwards, hoping to force the torpedo to slam into an asteroid, but it was no good. The Mark 200's software and maneuvering package were too good, too powerful, and the torpedo danced around the asteroid, never loosing lock, closing, closing, closing…

"Nice shot, _Skunk_!"

The trio of corvettes flipped themselves over and began the process of decelerating. A couple of drones were dropped off to examine the wreckage, collect salvage, grab intel and kill any survivors, but otherwise the incident was simply noted in the logs and forgotten. After all, when guarding a secret facility built secretly on the secret orders of a vice admiral running a pseudo-secret project for said pseudo-secret project, one had to expect things like these.

* * *

/UNSC _SPIRIT OF FIRE_ /

/SUBSYSTEM /

/REACTOR STRESS - CRITICAL/

 _Engineering, COM!_

 _Go COM!_

 _Keep that reactor going! We can't lose it!_

 _We cannae do it, ma'am! We keep pushin' it, we lose it!_

 _We don't push it we'll lose it anyways! Keep it running!_

Her last ATAF missiles launched, the pathetic little warheads burning out towards their targets. They exploded halfway there, swatted almost effortlessly from existence by Abyssal point defenses. Her deck guns kept up a steady rhythm, the pounding of the dual barreled turrets forming the bass drum to the symphony of ordnance. The intermittent rattle of what point defenses still remained laid itself on top, and underneath it all came the firing of her single MAC.

 _Drive core status!_

 _We don't have the nav plots yet! Jump now, there's no telling where we'll end up!_

 _If we don't jump, I know exactly where we'll end up - in Hell! Punch it! Now!_

 _Yes, ma'am!_

Her sensors hadn't picked up the xenos until it was too late. They'd exited slipspace almost on top of her; in fact, one of the smaller xenos had actually rammed her. Its bulk, barely a fraction of hers, hadn't been able to do too much damage at the velocities it'd been going, but it was still enough to sheer away much of her armor amidships. That wouldn't have been too bad in and of itself, but she'd been left reeling, and the other xenos were close behind.

Spirit squeezed the triggers on her guns as quick as mechanically possible, putting shots out as fast as they could be slammed into breeches. Almost as an afterthought, she fired the MAC, her shoulder jerking back from recoil. The light round crossed the knife-fight ranges in an instant, colliding with the enemy shields, and bouncing off. In return, missiles blew apart batteries C, H, and J. This was not a battle of finesse, of maneuvers, of tactics or strategy. This was a slugging match, a free-for-all brawl, a test of endurance. Her job was to hold out until she could jump, their job to destroy her before she could.

 _Drive is at ninety percent, commencing jump pr-_

A shot lanced through her shattered armor belt, piercing through her engineering spaces and venting compartments into the vacuum. It came out the other end, followed by a plume of gas, debris, and blood.

Ga-Aah! She gasped only partly from the pain; she'd been on the receiving end of enough to become somewhat desensitized to it. No, it was from the sudden feeling of her reactor figuratively taking a belly flop into her fuel tanks, then having the whole thing shrivel up into a crumpled ball of metal and plasma.

 _Drive destroyed!_

That was it; there would be no escape for her. Not this time. The slipspace drive had been her last chance of getting away from… well, whatever the hell these twisted, evil, just plain wrong things were. Now she only had her sublight thrusters, and those wouldn't last much longer as the Abyssals, sensing a critical blow had been dealt, closed in. Missile after missile slashed at what remained of her armor, tearing, biting, gashing. Crew casualties, already sky-high, approached ninety five percent as fairies disappeared in tiny flashes of light.

A plasma torpedo ripped through her vacant hangars, burning away the armor plate. In a flash, much of her starboard rigging had disappeared, flashed boiled into the void. Bulkheads slammed shut, cutting off the flow of atmosphere and any hope the stranded crew had of getting back to safety. Spirit didn't even hear them through her suddenly muffled hearing.

To make matters worse, large sections of her mainframes shut down from the shock of losing so much, so suddenly. The amount of information feedback overwhelmed the damaged circuits, forcing circuit breakers to hard crash the computers.

It couldn't have come at a worse time. Spirit found herself paralyzed, numb and drifting as shots hit her with ever-increasing frequency. The impacts felt like sharp jerks. There went her forward port secondary sensor array, there went Turret Three, there went her primary thrusters. A few escape pods launched, but were quickly blotted from existence.

Her last weapons were gone. The MAC had no more rounds, her missiles had all been shot, all twenty five deck guns singled out and reduced with ruthless efficiency. All the point defense rounds in her stocks couldn't have sustained a quarter of a second of firing. She couldn't even move; the wet, burning feeling around her calves told her all she needed to know.

There was one last thing she could do. Fighting through the paralysis, the exhaustion, the pain now starting to make a comeback, she reached for one of the many pouches strapped to the hardpoints on her armor. If she could reach it, there was still a chance. She could still salvage this. She could still save her crew…

Abyssal 550123k tracked the last volley in. The slugs tore through what remained of the enemy's pathetic armor belt, almost completely ignoring it as they punched through the other side. Still, 550123k couldn't help but be a tiny bit impressed. Even in its death throes, the enemy had resisted, fighting to the last with its underpowered weapons. It had never been a fair fight. Then again, 550123k wasn't in the business of so-called 'fair fights'.

A final series of explosions, weak now that there was almost no atmosphere to feed off of, ripped through the enemy's hull. It finally went limp, slumping over as best it could in null-g. Just to make sure, a few more rounds hit, spinning and jerking it around but otherwise eliciting no response. The enemy was dead, blood and whatever atmosphere it had left on board spilling into vacuum.

Nothing left here. One by one, the ships boosted clear of the debris filled battlespace. 550123k hung back for a moment, drinking it all in. After a few moments, it too pulled away, opening a slipspace rupture and jumping away.

Spirit's body drifted freely. Her rigging shattered, the bleeding from her wounds slowing to a mere trickle, she hung absolutely motionless. A casual observer would have pronounced her dead, and even a thorough examination would have revealed little, if any, evidence of her continued existence.

The barest of movements. Her right hand, clenched tight into a fist, relaxed an infinitesimal amount. A small, white cylinder floated free. As it did so, her thumb brushed its top ever so slightly.

/UNSC PRIORITY CODE/

/CHARLIE FOXTROT VICTOR EIGHT ZETA/

/MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY/

"Huh?"

Running towards the fight, Autumn came to a halt and perked up her head, glancing about herself. Bending down, she tapped one of the marines on his shoulder.

"Did you hear something, hm~?"

"Hear what?" He let off on the SAW for a moment, listening for anything out of place. "No, not really, unless you're talking about the explosions. And there's always explosions."

"No, more like… someone shouting, hm~?"

"Someone shouting?" The marine looked torn between smirking or being concerned. "There's more than enough of that to go around. You sure your ears are okay? That was a pretty big hit back there."

"No, I'm okay, only 90 millimeters, hm~?"

"If you say so…" He turned back to his machine gun, hosing down the latest Abyssal position designated for reduction.

Autumn took one more look around, wearing a puzzled expression. She could have sworn she heard something out of place…

"Heads up!" A Wyvern swooped in low, blanketing the strongpoint with anti-installation missiles. The stout structure held up, but the roiling blasts allowed UNSC forces to advance another few meters. A rocket team threw themselves to the ground besides Autumn, conveniently ignoring the reactor-toting girl.

"Yo, Yuri."

The other marine answered while staring through his DMR's scope. "да?"

"Why the fuck are we sieging the place?! Couldn't we just have, I dunno, blown it to hell and called it a day?!"

"We've been over this, John. This is one of last organized resistances in London; Command wants to put on a show for the public. A visible victory, like raising the flag on Suribachi or the Reichstag, or marching through Armstrong City, or cracking Viceroy. Something to hold up and look good on the feeds, y'know?"

"Yeah, well, doesn't make me feel any better!" He checked the backblast area, then unleashed another 50 mm rocket into the smoke. "God, I wish I had a Spanker, not this piddly-ass Pilum!"

"We've been over this too. The Pilum is much easier to produce, maintain, transport and supply. Its ammunition is much more portable, and its design allows for much greater varia-"

"I don't care!" Another rocket hurled itself from the tube. "Fuck, I'm out!" The marine stowed the launcher and drew a battle rifle. At this point, the pair chose to notice the kanmusu trying her best not to look like she was eavesdropping.

"Hey, aren't you…?"

"Yep!" She replied, grinning.

"So that means you're…"

"Yep!"

"And that's…"

"Yep!"

"Well." The marine sat back for a moment, just staring at her. His partner was a bit more discreet, shooting furtive looks from behind his scope. "So that means…" He made a vague gesture toward the Archer racks mounted on her arms, mostly depleted but still bristling with miniature warheads. "Those are real?"

"You betcha, hm~?" She bounced a bit.

"Huh." He thought for a moment, then tapped his friend on the back. "Yo, Yuri."

"да."

"You're still lugging around that target designator, aren't you?"

* * *

Abyssal 912001b(L) shook the dust from its shoulders and hefted its rifle. Robotically, as it had for the past four hours, it ejected an empty magazine, replacing it with a fresh canister of crystals. It lifted the weapon, sighting down the barrel. A pull of the trigger sent a flurry of shots blazing through the open window.

Another rocket impacted on the wall below the opening. The blast sent 912001b(L) spinning to the ground, stunned and bleeding. In its place, 4516685h took up the position, sending what suppressive fire it could downrange.

Painfully, slowly, 912001b(L) got off the floor, leaning against the instacrete wall for support. That blast had filled the air, already hot and stale, with thick, blinding, choking clouds of dust. 91200b(L) could barely breathe, but somehow found its way back to the window. Racked with uncontrollable coughing, it fired blindly, desperately, trying to hold back the tide that now threatened to overwhelm the defenses.

For a second, return fire seemed to slacken. Hope blossomed in 912001b(L)'s chest-equivalent; maybe the situation could yet be salvaged. It fought with renewed vigor, yanking out depleted magazine and slamming fresh ones into the breech as fast as it could.

The blasts came too close together to register separately, but the effect was the same. The wall, which had stood up to engineers, artillery, tanks, railguns, rockets, bombs, and aircraft blew away like a leaf in a storm. 4516685h vanished in the explosion; 912001b(L) was blasted backwards through several walls.

912001b(L)'s vision filled with flashes of light and patches of darkness. Its entire body felt like it was made of lead. It tried to move its arm, which now felt like a wet sandbag. No response. Trying to shift its leg, it got the same result.

The sound of weapons fire started up again, bullets filling the air. It heard the roar of human soldiers charging forth, no longer pinned down by defenses which had been blown apart. The wet sounds of bayonets and knives piercing flesh reached its ears as the humans closed to melee range, leaping into gun positions and tearing apart Abyssals before they could even lift a finger.

"Hey! This way! To the roof!" 912001b(L) redoubled its struggle to move as the sound of running got ever closer. A brief surge of hope filled its body as it managed to lift its arm.

"Oy! Over here! Got a live one!" The cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against its head. 912001b(L)'s heart sank, but it continued to struggle, up until the world turned white for the briefest of moments, then disappeared.

"Come on, Yuri!" John poked the barrel of the battle rifle around the corner, fishing for a reaction. Getting none, he waved his comrades forwards. Yuri sprinted down the hallway, ducking into an open doorway. They proceeded in this fashion, leapfrogging down the corridor, eyes peeled and hands tight on their weapons.

The whole atmosphere was a bit ruined by Autumn strolling casually down the passage, hands in pockets and whistling. She reached the end of the hallway, opened the stairwell acess door and glanced backwards. The two marines shot her exasperated looks, then stood up and ran after her, others close behind.

They pushed upwards through the stairwell, ignoring the blood spattering the walls and the body parts littered on the floor. Squads and sections split off, kicking in the doors to other floors, hurling frags and flashbangs and adding a liberal dose of suppressive fire before storming in, shotguns and SMGs out. Autumn hung back, letting the marines handle the CQC. Her bulky rigging wasn't exactly suited for the closer-than-knife-fight ranges at which they were now grappling with the surviving Abyssals.

Five… Six… Seven… the numbers posted on the walls slowly went up. Soon, the remaining marines came to the roof access. They stacked up alongside the door, waiting for the breacher to kick it in.

Three shotgun blasts and a kick later, the door, already damaged, flew off its hinges and crashed to the ground. The breacher ducked back, allowing the point man to move in, sweeping the roof for threats.

"Clear!"

The marines spread out across the rooftop, kneeling beside the scattered bodies to confirm death and put an extra bullet into them.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"All tangos down!"

"Confirm, no hostiles in sight!"

The calls rang out, tinged with relief that there wouldn't have to be a fight. A marine pulled off his pack, extracting a hard plastic case. He snapped open the latches, pulling out a metal rod and a bundle of cloth. His friends joined him, unfolding the cloth and extending the rod. They attached the piece of fabric to the pole, then rammed it into the ground.

The flag caught the wind, unfurling and snapping in the breeze. The gold-on-black eagle and globe symbol of the UNSC rippled and shimmered in the smoky air. Cheers began to come up from the troops still on the ground, steadily increasing in number and volume as soldiers caught sight of the flag. The marines on the rooftop stood near the ledge, pumping their fists in the air, making V-for-victory signs and jumping up and down.

Autumn hung back, letting the marines have their moment. Listening to their whoops, a faint smile decorated her features. Still, she couldn't feel completely satisfied. Something just felt… off. That voice she'd heard earlier… she couldn't shake it off.

Ah, well. At least she'd be headed back to Reach before too long. Spending this much time planetside gave her the willies.

* * *

Garcia whistled as he stepped out of the shower. For once, he had a handle on everything. The last bits of ground opposition were quickly being mopped up. SAR ops were nearly complete; the Abyssal bombardments of Luna and Mars had done less damage than initially thought. A lifetime of drills had enabled the citizens of the lunar cities to get to the deep shelters within twenty minutes of the alert going out, and the entrenched and dispersed natures of the Martian metropolises let them get by with surprisingly minimal casualties. In fact, estimates said the factories and shipyards could be resuming production within a week.

He tugged on a fresh uniform and headed for the observation lounge. Scuttlebutt had it that the Reach Defense Fleet could be pulling out of the system soon. Garcia hoped that was true. They'd spent too long at Sol; the Abyssals could be striking anywhere, anytime, and the only force capable of putting up significant opposition was currently seven hundred kilometers beneath his feet.

His good mood began to disappear as he turned his thoughts to the operation he appeared to be in command of. Specifically, the logistics of it. Having big guns capable of shooting shiny things and making loud noises that made the bad guys go boom was all well and good. He had the guns, and he had the bad guys. However, if the kanmusu were to believed - and he had no reason to disbelieve them - there was a critical lack of shiny things to shoot from those guns at the bad guys.

Garcia's mood dipped even lower as he realized he had no way of replenishing those munitions. It wasn't like he could just call up Lethbridge Industrial and have them whip up some sparkly magic anime spirit ship girl bullshit fueled MAC shells - or could he? It wouldn't be the weirdest thing Lethbridge had ever done. They'd created the Cyclops, after all.

Just as he began to look up their number, a message alert popped up on the edge of his screen. Putting aside logistical concerns for the time being, he checked his mail.

"My personnel request went through?" His eyebrows went up. It appeared being a rear admiral did have its perks. "So, who've I got?"

Scrolling down the list, name after name went through his vision. Logistics, medical, comms, engineers, intel, ewarfare… all the MOSes needed to keep a modern base up and running.

"IntSec? I didn't ask for IntSec…" Seemed like he'd be hanging out with internal security. Garcia wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, the Innies were still a thing. On the other… InSec. Nobody liked them, and for good reason.

"Well, if I've got the chain of command right, I oughta have control over them." He had to admit, having InSec on a leash was an appealing thought. He could imagine quite a few uses for a personal attack dog. "Still, those creeps had better keep the fuck away from the kanmusu."

"Fuckity fuck Scheiße fuck shit ficken fuck!" A stream of profanity hit his ears, and he turned to investigate. An lieutenant, uniform rumpled, datapad in one hand and duffel bag in the other, ran towards him. Her eyes stared down at a datapad, unaware of her surroundings.

Garcia took a step to the side, just avoiding her falling body as she tripped over her own feet.

"Waa-oof!"

"Are you okay?" Holding a hand to her forehead, legs splayed out behind her, she looked up at him. Her eyes widened as she took in his rank insignia.

"Uah-sir!" She scrambled to stand and salute, but somehow slipped on the nonslip decking and went crashing once more. Garcia winced at the sound her skull made against the floor, then reached down a hand to help her up.

"I'd suggest taking things a bit slower, lieutenant." He pulled her to her feet, then helped her collect her belongings. "Where're you going in such a hurry, anyways?"

"Oh, uh, nowhere." At his raised eyebrow, she sighed in defeat. "I'm lost."

"I know the feeling."

"Oh, well, I'm looking for…" A brief consultation with the pad. "Rear Admiral (Interim) J. Garcia?" She looked at him hopefully.

"Rear Admiral Garcia?" He smirked. "Well, you've found him."

"Huh? I…" Her eyes wandered over the ID patch on his chest. At once, her feet snapped together and she snapped a picture perfect salute, rendered slightly less perfect by the datapad she still held in her right hand.

"Ow! Fic- I mean, sir! Ow…"

"At ease, lieutenant." He waved down her salute, studiously ignoring the bruise forming above her brow. "Your name?"

"Lieutenant, uh, Klara Eichel, sir!"

"Good to meet you, Lieutenant Eichel." He shot a discreet look at his own datapad. Listed in the intel section, under the E's, LT Klara Eichel. "I'm glad to have you on the team."

"Sir! Thank you, sir! If I may, sir, what am I being assigned to? My orders didn't say much… sir!"

"First of all, can it with the 'sir's. You sound like a crewman straight out of boot. And about your position… you'll see soon enough." He jerked his head down the hall. "Come with me. Let's get you situated. We have plenty of work to do." He strode away.

Operative Berlin held her breath for another few seconds, then sighed and slumped against the wall. That had been too close. She'd nearly up and blurted her real job. If she'd done so, Washington would… she didn't want to think about what Washington would do. Luckily for her, Garcia seemed like a trusting guy. She could use that.

She gathered up her stuff and jogged after the admiral. It wouldn't do for her to be late for her first meeting.

* * *

"Lieutenant Baker."

"Aye, sir."

"Is the fleet ready for transition?"

"Yes sir, on your order."

"Very well." Lasky began to give the instruction, but paused. "Before we jump, is there anything I should know about?"

"Um…" The lieutenant made a hasty check of the activity logs. "Actually, we received a… strange transmission a while back, sir."

Lasky raised an eyebrow. "Why was I not informed?"

"Well, sir, it did come as we were coordinating system-wide SAR ops, orbital support, and ground forces."

"I see. Content of the transmission?"

"Can't rightly tell, sir. Completely garbled, not on any used channels or in any conventional format. Hell, the only reason we picked it up is because we had to open up the lower freqs for civvie coordination with the SAR boys."

"Can you at least tell me where it came from?"

"Let's see…" The lieutenant ran the transmission through the tracking software. "Sending the coordinates now, sir."

"Thank you." Lasky opened the file, entering the coordinates on his astrogation charts. "These put the origin in interstellar space."

"The data is what the data is, sir."

"Very well. Thank you lieutenant." He considered the location and the fleet arrangements. The origin was on their route, and it couldn't hurt to just check it out, could it?

"Notify Captain Khalid and his battle cluster. _Hope Springs Eternal_ is to divert to these coordinates and investigate. Afterwards, they will rendezvous with us at Reach."

"Roger that, sir. Anything else?"

Lasky took one last look at his unit deployments. Clustered around the Infinity, the entire RDF, minus several battlegroups left behind to assist recovery efforts, waited for his order. The ship hummed beneath his feet, sounding almost... impatient. Eager to get going.

"All ships, commence jump. Let's go home."


	19. Chapter 18

/UNSC HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAl/

/SUBSYSTEM .7/

/SLIPSPACE TRANSITION: COMPLETE/

It's an interesting quirk of slipspace travel that, given two objects with identical drives and identical sublight thrust capabilities, traveling to the same destination and departing at the same time under at the same velocity and accelerations curves, the object with a larger mass will arrive first.

This phenomenon, predicted by Kirstein-Hong-Dragovich slipspace n-dimensional geometry, has to do with how deep into the eleven dimensions of slipspace an object can penetrate. Imagine, if you would, two stones. Next, imagine throwing both into wet sand. The rock with more mass sinks deeper, unless my many experiences with throwing rocks onto sand were simply fever dreams. I'm a strange guy with strange hobbies.

Now, it is well known that the deeper a vessel can penetrate slipspace, the faster it can move, as a result of the higher level dimensions being more isolated from the various gravitational perturbances produced by realspace phenomenon like planets, stars, black holes, and galaxies. An object with more mass, creating a slipspace rupture, is able to access a slightly deeper level of slipspace, much like the rock sinking deeper into the wet sand. Analogy makes sense now, eh? This, obviously, is an issue of some concern to tactical planners, but can be compensated for. The most pressing problem it presents is that it can scatter a battlegroup, causing sensor blind spots and escort gaps that would normally be covered by the other ships in a fleet.

Of course, even with masses not corresponding exactly to their old hulls, kanmusu still weigh upwards of a metric fuck ton, and even if realspace and everything originating there are isolated from most of the consequences of that mass, slipspace is not. The Nav officer of the Eternal, not unreasonably, forgot to account for that when he entered the jump parameters into the cruiser's mainframes. Therefore, the cruiser went a bit faster than expected. Not by much, but enough for it to exit an hour or so ahead of its escorts.

Therefore, when realspace transition slapped each and every soul on board in the face, Eternal found itself all on its lonesome, unable to see more than a few light seconds. And even if the cruiser had been able to see, Spirit's distress beacon had chosen that exact moment to crap out and die. Without its escorts, the cruiser had no way of searching the billions of kilometers of space surrounding it, especially for something as small as a single kanmusu and her dead comm.

"Status report!"

"Nothing to report, sir. That would require us being able to see more than a light second."

"Where's our battle cluster? They should be able to provide us with data."

"We slipped out ahead of them, sir."

"Damn." Khalid dropped his face into his palms, trying to think of what factors he'd left out of the jump parameters. It didn't take long. "We forgot to take the… the… the what's-it-called… the magic anime sparkly ship spirit bullshit girls into account, didn't we?"

"It would appear so, sir."

"Oh, come the fuck on. How long until the battlegroup catches up?"

"Computer says... a good two or three hours, sir. We have a _lot_ of extra mass."

"Any sign of that signal we're here to find?"

"Nada, sir. Quiet as a tomb, far's we're concerned."

"Okay." He rubbed his temples in exasperation. "Sound general quarters, alert condition red. I want all weapons spun up, shields up, our fighters deployed. Anything spotted, it ID's itself in ten seconds or we blow it away."

"Yes sir, sounding general quarters, alert condition red." Klaxons wailed and red lights strobed, sending the ship into a frenzy. Crewmembers rushed back and forth, tugging on helmets, armor and vac gear. Nonessential equipment was stowed and secured, damage control prepared. The safeties were taken off the weapons, targeting systems warmed up and trained outwards. Khalid stared at the viewscreen, at the absolute blackness they revealed.

 _What the hell is out there?_

* * *

"Captain Hargrave, Captain Brewster, you are to proceed to Luna High Orbit. There you will assist in system wide SAR ops under Admiral Gardner. Is that understood?" The holographic avatars nodded in sync. "Very well. Dismissed."

The images of the two officers saluted and disappeared. Hood held his straight backed posture for a moment longer, then relaxed.

"A very coordinated operation. I am impressed, Lord Hood."

He turned, trying not to let his surprise show. "Ambassador 'Telvas. I thought you evacuated."

The Elite - no, they were called Sangheili now - made a dismissive gesture. "Bah. I gave my spot to a family. Three lives are worth more than one." He rested a four fingered hand on the curved handle hanging from his hip. "Besides, it has been too long since my blade has had sport."

"Fair enough." Hood stepped away from the comm terminal and shook the Sangheili's hand. "And your escort?"

"They elected to stay as well. Currently, they remain in your city of Vancouver, aiding the civilian populace."

"That was good of them." The admiral walked over to a small cabinet, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. He glanced over at the ambassador. "Something to drink?"

The Elite shook his head. "I do not partake of alcohol."

"Shame. This is some good stuff." Hood looked over the label, then decided he was allowed some vices. After all, if being Fleet Admiral didn't allow him that, what was the point of the title anyways? Pouring himself a good stiff glass, he continued talking. "Any news from the Arbiter?"

"Our war continues, better than yours, if not as well as the Imperium would wish for. We have made gains in the Lalanti and Otras Systems and repulsed a major assault on the Taniph Line. Currently, our forces mass for an offensive on the Skram Frontier, so as to take pressure off our industrial centers. These gains come at a… large cost."

"Oh?" He raised the glass to eye level, appraising the drink, then took a sip. "How so?"

"The Third Fleet of Righteous Penance is no more, as are the Sixth Legion of Blessed Vengeance and the Tenth Legion of Holy Ascension. Deployments of your Planetary Reduction Munitions have resulted in the destruction of Taniph-13 and Sokrar-9."

"Ah." The glass was placed carefully upon the table, empty. "Can we help?"

Telvas shook his head again. "The Arbiter refuses to ask anymore of your forces. The commitment of your Fifteenth Fleet, Seventh Army and the Light of Sol is more than your fair share. He thanks you and sends his regrets that he is not able to commit forces to supporting your efforts." The ambassador paused, as if trying to remember something. "He also wishes for you to convey his regards to General Dykor of II Corps. They alone held the line on Otras-4."

"That's very kind of him." He motioned to a low table and a pair of anatomy-neutral chairs, adequate for all and comfortable for none. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I prefer to stand."

"Whatever you say." Making himself comfortable, Hood leveled a hard stare at Telvas. "Now, I'm sure this is more than a courtesy call. What do you want?"

"Direct as always, admiral." The ambassador drew a datapad from the folds of his cloak and tossed. Hood caught it with practiced ease and glanced at the screen. "A most impressive new weapon you have."

"May I ask where you got these images?"

"From the 'public domain'." Telvas tilted his head to the side. "They were freely available on your Internet, as were some very intriguing reports."

"Oh?"

"Your Rear Admiral (Interim) Garcia gave an interview to the journalists. Needless to say, Arbiter wishes to know more."

"I'm afraid all information is classified." _Also, I'm not entirely sure what they are myself._

An inscrutable look passed over the Sangheili's face. "That is… unfortunate. I hope that we will be able to share more in the future." The ambassador put his hand to his chest and performed a small bow. "Beyond that, I have no more reason to be here. I take my leave, Admiral."

"Send the Arbiter my regards." He stood up and shook Telvas' hand, the Sangheili looking mildly discomfited by the human gesture. "I hope to work together in the future."

"Indeed." Halfway through the door, he turned halfway. "I would like to meet these women in the future. They appear to be most formidable warriors."

* * *

"Say 'ah'."

"Aaaah…" Dawn tried not to let her eyes cross as the corpsman pressed down with a popsicle stick. Amber stood off to the side, trying not to smirk as the highly technical and sensitive medical procedure was performed.

"Great. Now I'm going to shine a light in your eye. Ready? Okay." He finished up the last of his tasks, noting the results. "Alright, you look great. We're just waiting for the chief to come in and see you. She should be in right about…"

"Alright, what the hell's going on in here?!"

"... Now." Cringing, the corpsman backed away from his patients, trying to make himself invisible. "Good luck!" he whispered.

"For fuck's sake, I copped a ride here to get away from you people!" Hikowa snatched up the datapad with the corpsman's notes, glared at it, then threw it aside. "Well, despite your efforts to the contrary, you seem to be alright, and I guess I should be happy about that, so whoop-dee-fucking-doo."

"Uh, thank you?"

"Don't thank me, thank that thick fucking skull of yours. The fucking hell were you thinking, just charging in like that?" Hikowa pricked Dawn's arm with a nanospray, eliciting a yelp. She frowned at the readouts the device gave her. "Well, your cell count seems to be alright, so I guess you didn't fuck up too badly." She popped out the spray head, snapped on a fresh one, then turned to Amber.

The frigate backed up nervously, holding her hands out protectively. "Oh come on, don't be such a fucking pussy. It's just a pinch!"

"Ah-I-no-not-I don't like needles please don't."

"You've got titanium fucking skin. You've got a healing factor Deadpool would be jealous of. You've got more firepower than a tank regiment. You're the spirit of a freakin' warship - which, by the way, I still reserve the right to be skeptical about - and you're afraid of a piddly-ass needle?!"

"Well-uh-ah-they remind me of the… the…the… " She gulped and pulled at the collar of her uniform. "The Flood."

"The Flood…?" Hikowa's brow furrowed for a second. Her eyes then widened, before her entire expression softened just a fraction. "Oh. Well then, I guess I can forgo the needle." She shifted her weight awkwardly, before busying herself prepping her other tools. Dawn did her best not to stare, directing her gaze to a lock of hair dangling in front of her ear. Amber looked at her feet and tried not to remember the feeling of those things crawling around inside her hull, infecting her crew, tearing apart her systems, taking control of her body, taking control of her mind…

* * *

/UNSC HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL/

/FLIGHTCOM COORDINATION CIRCUIT/

/BLADE SQUADRON TACCOM/

Sitting in the rear seat of the Rapier, Blade-4-2 stifled a yawn. The pilot, 4-1, shot an annoyed look back at him. He returned a sheepish grin, hiding from her gaze behind the mirrored visor of his flight helmet. She shook her head and turned back to her control console, staring at the sensor plots for a sign of… anything, really. A comm ping ideally, but even a generic radar contact would be a welcome sign that she wasn't wasting her time chasing phantoms.

" _4-1, do you see anything out in your sector, over?_ "

"That's a negative, Lead, it's quiet as a grave. Just us, the Eternal, and the stars, over."

" _Roger that, 4-1, all Blade's confirm no contacts. Finish up your patrol pattern then head back in. Lead, out._ "

"I copy that, Lead. 4-1, out." 4-1 clicked off her mic, resting her head back against her crash couch. "Hey, Ballet."

"Yeah?"

"You don't see anything either, do you?"

"That's an affirmative, Spinner. Nothin' shows up nowhere. Just us and the dust."

"Figures, don't it? What did Khalid say we're out here for? Some sort of signal?"

"Eeyup." Ballet groaned and dropped his head against the crash padding. "Buncha bull, gotta be. There's nothing out here! This is inter-fucking-stellar space, who the hell's planting a transmitter out here?!"

"Probably just some random interference anyways. Hey, when we get back, you wanna watch that show? What's it called, Firefly?"

"Yeah, yeah! Let's do that! They're doing Season Twelve reruns, we'll get the squadron together, and th-" Ballet froze, mouth half open. He shook his head a few times, then looked closer.

"Ballet? You alright back there?"

"Uh… maybe. Hey, you seeing something on the plots?"

"Huh?" Spinner wiped the boredom from her eyes and switched her displays over to Ballet's readouts. "Um… you mean that thing up there?"

"Yeah." Ballet leaned backwards, suddenly wide awake. "That wasn't there before. Was it?"

"No. I'm calling this in." Spinner triggered her mic. "Lead, 4-1."

" _4-1, go._ "

"Something just popped up on the sensors, flashing you the coordinate readouts. I'm going to check it out, over."

" _Roger that, coordinates received. We're tracking you, we've got you covered, over._ "

"Thanks. Should I hot mic this, over?"

" _Yeah, running commentary. Khalid wants a complete record, over._ "

"Roger, my mic is running, out." The flight computer spat out an intercept course, which Spinner immediately accelerated the Rapier onto. Inertial dampers strained against the power of the dual oversized Westinghouse-Rolls Royce fusion torches, enough g's bleeding through to push the crew into their crash couches. A dumb AI stood ready to take over in case they blacked out against the influence of the stims meant to keep them functioning.

On the 3-D sensor plot, both fighter and contact rushed towards an intercept. At the halfway mark, the fighter flipped and began counter-thrusting in a pre-programmed maneuver.

"Hey, Ballet," Spinner grunted against the giant's hand on her chest, "Eyes on the prize, get the recorders ready."

"Roger!" He gasped against the g forces, less accustomed to the pressure than his pilot. Reaching out, he tapped the icons that switched on the environmental sensors, spectrum analyzer, and various other recording paraphernalia mounted but rarely used.

" _4-1, we're seeing your contact as well now. Status report, over._ "

"Lead, this is 4-1, we're coming up on it now. I'll stream you the sensor feed, it's getting a little hard to talk, over."

" _4-1, we copy, just focus on flying, over._ "

"20 seconds to visual range! Fifteen! Ten! Five!"

"Cutting thrust…now!" The glow of plasma faded from the thrusters. The giant's hand disappeared, allowing Spinner and Ballet to fill their lungs with sweet, sweet atmosphere. Switching the sensor feeds to visual, Spinner brought the feed up on both their viewscreens.

"Uh… Ballet? You're seeing this, right?"

"Yeah. I think we need to bump this up."

"Agreed. Lead? We've got a problem."

* * *

"Lieutenant Barnett? What am I looking at?"

"Not sure, sir." Khalid leaned over the holotable, squinting at the fuzzy video feed from Blade 4. The fighter had matched vectors with the unknown, hanging back around 5 kilometers and maintaining visual contact.

" _Lead, this is 4-1, contact does not appear to be active. Permission to move closer, over?_ "

"4-1, permission granted. Let's get some details in that feed, over."

The video jolted before the contact grew bigger in the feed. A sudden intake of breath circled the room as details emerged.

"Lead, 4-1, I… holy fuck, that's some fucked up shit right there, you seeing this? Over."

"4-1, we're seeing this. Standby, we're trying to figure it out, over." A brief moment of radio static ensued as Blade Lead switched his channels. "Flightcom, suggestions, over?"

"Standby, Lead." Flightcom glanced over at Khalid, plainly hoping for orders he could follow. Khalid rubbed his chin, trying to fish out the thought developing in the back of his head.

"Don't we have those two... whatsitcalled... shipgirls on board?"

* * *

" _Sickbay, Bridge._ "

"Bridge, go."

" _Get the two girl… ship… passengers up here now, over._ "

"Roger that, Bridge." The corpsman signed off the comm, then looked over at Hikowa with trepidation. Growling profanities under her breath, Hikowa stood up, set down a roll of bandages and stalked over to the intercom.

"This is HMCS Hikowa. What the fuck do you want with my patients?!"

" _Corpsman, this is a priority task. Whatever you're doing down there can wait._ "

"Bridge, I am the doctor, and my patients don't go until I have a reason!"

" _Want a reason? We're looking at a girl._ "

Hikowa cocked an eyebrow. "Now, Bridge, I know it gets pretty lonely up there, but there's a reason you keep that shit in the bunk."

" _No, not that. We've got a video feed of a girl five light seconds off our port bow. She's not wearing vac gear, bleeding out, hauling a massive hunk of metal, and still alive. Think that warrants a discharge?_ "

"One moment." Muting the intercom, she turned to face the two kanmusu in her care. She took in their suddenly wide eyes, upright postures, and made some quick conclusions. "One of you people?"

"Yep. Definitely a shipgirl." Dawn got off the floor while Amber slid off the bed, gently putting weight on her recently bandaged leg wound. "We'll better up there now."

"You sure?" At their nods, Hikowa jerked a skeptical thumb towards the door. "Well, it doesn't sound like there's much you'll be able to do. Just don't strain too much and ruin all my hard work."

"Yes, ma'am!" They snapped to attention, then sprinted out of the sickbay. Hikowa stood for a moment, then turned back to the corpsmen staring at the scene.

"Well? What're you staring at? You heard the bridge, we're gonna have work before long. Get to it!"

* * *

The blast door opened, admitting two slightly disheveled kanmusu. "Sir! Forward… Unto… Dawn… reporting, sir!" Dawn panted out, leaning on the wall. Amber gasped out something to that effect as well, falling to her hands and knees.

"At ease." Khalid gave them a once over. "So you're the ones who beat off the Abyssals?''

"Autumn and Everest helped too, sir!"

"Well, I… you have my sincere thanks. And, I believe, that of every single sailor on this ship." He tipped his cap to them. "Now, onto business. Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." The officer tapped an icon, bringing up Blade 4's feed. Khalid moved to the side and made room for the kanmusu.

"Do you recognize her?" Dawn and Amber leaned in close, squinting at the fuzzy video.

"Sorry, it's too blurry, we can't make out details. Does it really matter? We need to get out there right now, she needs help!"

" _Huh? Who's that?_ "

"4-1, this Captain Khalid. Don't worry about it. Move in a little closer, we need a better feed, over."

" _Roger that, sir. This is fuckin' weird… over._ "

"Thank you, pilot." He turned to find the kanmusu still waiting for a reply. "The answer to your question is in the Standard Military Protocols, Chapter IX, Title 4, Section 21, Paragraph 2 Line 3. 'No UNSC asset will make contact with an unknown entity until the identity of the entity is confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt and is determined to be non-hostile.' Hell, she's lucky Blade 4 didn't blow her up as soon as she was spotted."

"Burn complete sir, we're standing off two kilometers. Little too close for comfort, could we please hurry this up? Over."

"Just a little longer 4-1. People, I need results, and I need them now. I get a positive ID, or the MACs do their thing."

"Just give us a moment!" The video began to resolve itself and details began to emerge. Amber's mainframes began parsing the data, identifying specific objects and correlating them with the databases. Her memory banks, nearly 30 years out of date, were nonetheless perhaps the best suited for this task. Her consciousness split into two levels, one seeing reality, the other seeing something slightly… apart. A hazy sort of view was overlaid upon the real world, along the lines of an afterimage. That afterimage? An oblong shape, all harsh lines and sharp angles, colored gunmetal grey. Various block protrusions stuck out from all sides, a particularly large one hanging from the front. Eight circles glowed blue in the back, and the entire top of the vessel was covered by a single sloping sheet of armor.

Her databases spat out a match, and Dawn's suddenly widened eyes indicated she had one as well.

"That's… that's Spirit of Fire!"

* * *

Major (Brevet) Armandez took a second to admire her surroundings. The Infinity was the pinnacle of UNSC warship design in more ways than one. She'd passed a full-sized gravball court on her way here, and a couple of her marines had mentioned a swimming pool.

But time for recreation would come later. She had an appointment with one Rear Admiral (Interim) Garcia and she didn't intend to be late. Still, it was with regret she turned away from the soft serve machine to continue on her way.

"Level 60, Compartment 4B6…" She counted her way down the doors, following the map on her datapad. Weaving her way past the activities of the crew, Armandez found the correct compartment and punched in the entry code.

The door slid open, the slight hiss lost in the buzz of conversation that filled the room. Officers and enlisted stood hunched over datapads and holograms, the murmur of conversation punctuated by angry retorts and fists pounding on tables. A marine lieutenant argued with a Navy commander, numbers and figures flying back and forth faster than Armandez's senses could keep up with. An ensign and a sergeant nearly came to blows over a couple of decimal places. Two pilots had to be restrained from attacking an engineer, and in the middle of the chaos an accountant worked serenely over his charts.

Weaving her way past a highly involved force deployment discussion, Armandez located Rear Admiral (Interim) Garcia, busy conferring with a man wearing commander's stripes.

"Alright, Commander… Laumer, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Find Lieutenant Klara Eichel, she'll be your exec for now. I've managed to get you access to the intel we pulled off that battleship, so crunch the numbers and see if you can come up with anything. Also, one more thing." Garcia leaned over and whispered something in the commander's ear. Whatever he said, it caused the man's face to lose its color somewhat, though Laumer quickly regained control over his demeanor.

"Yes sir, Lieutenant Eichel." Laumer saluted and jogged off, allowing Armandez to approach. She came to crisp attention, knocking her heels together and touching her hand to her brow.

"Sir, Major (Brevet) Julie Armandez, reporting for assignment to Project KANMUSU!"

"Huh?" Garcia blinked a couple of times, clearing the afterimages of numbers and astrogation charts from his eyes. "Oh. Oh, yes! Ah, damn, uh, give me a second." He stuck his hand in a pocket, then the other. His expression slowly morphed into one of confusion and consternation. "Oh, damn, where is it…" He patted down his entire uniform before kneeling and digging into the pile of cardboard boxes under the table. "Come on, come on, it's in there somewhere, where are you, fuuuuu…" Armandez stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"Found it!" He popped up with a small black box. Armandez gave it a sideways glance, unsure of what to make of it.

"Major Armandez, your rank insignia." He noticed the look on her face. "What, is something wrong?"

"Uh, no sir, nothing!" She let out a silent breath of relief, then accepted the oak leaf symbols. Peeling off her captain's bars, she patted the dull metal leaves onto the velcro strips on her shoulders. "Thank you, I was wondering when I'd be getting those."

"No problem." He tossed the case back in the pile, dusted his hands off, then rendered a belated answering salute. "Glad to have you on board." Garcia flagged down a passing ensign and availed himself of the O-1's holoprojector. "Now, have you gotten the full intel briefing yet?"

"No sir, my orders were pretty bare bones."

"As I thought." He inserted a small data crystal into the projector and passed it to the Major. "Look at this when you've got time. Commander Laumer is going to be holding a full briefing at 1900 hours, be there. For now, though, I can give you a basic intro." He paused for a second, looking at her appraisingly. "How much do you know about the project?"

"Not much, sir. Some kind of new weapons development? I figured all that stuff about 'shipgirls' and 'spirits' was code for something, but I don't get what R&D would need with…" She waved a hand at the myriad personnel occupying the compartment. "... all this."

"You're half right, major." He called a marine over and whispered briefly. The man gulped, nodded and ran off. "However, there's a few things you should know. All that talk about spirits? It…"

"You called?" The two turned to find a tall, brown-haired, and - Armandez blushed and looked elsewhere - very well-endowed woman striding towards them, the marine in tow.

"Yes, I did. Thank you, marine." He nodded and double-timed it out of there. Everest stared after him wearing a slightly bemused look, then shrugged and popped her neck.

"Captain Armandez, this is Everest. Everest, Captain Armandez. She'll be overall ground forces coordinator for our little operation." When neither of them said anything, he gave a small nudge to the kanmusu.

"Oh, sure. Yo, I'm Everest, CA-2, spirit of the UNSC Everest, all that jazz, blah, blah, blah, anything else?"

"Wha-huh?"

"What the woman said. There was no code in your orders. I suppose with what we've been dealing with for the past fifteen years, this was simply the next step up." He nodded wryly at Armandez's baffled expression. "My reaction too, but I've no indication that Everest and her compatriots aren't who they claim to be."

"Wait, wait, wait, this is way too-"

"Hold on." Everest leaned forwards and took a good look at her face, forcing Armandez to bend over backwards in the process. "You said your last name was Armandez?"

"Y-yes, why?"

"Do you have a Graham Armandez in your family?"

"My grandfather? He passed away seventeen years ago."

"Ah. Pity. I'd have liked to talk to the ol' Chief again." Her mouth twisted into a sly smile and something glinted in her eye. "Did you know he had a secret stash of Reach '77 that only the Admiral knew about? Oh, I laughed when the crew found out. Then I felt bad for laughing. Still laughed, though."

"Get used to it, Major. They do this all the time." He shook his head as Armandez wiped away her incredulous expression. "Now, I do believe we have work to do. Come, I'll give you the tour."

* * *

/UNSC HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL/

/FLIGHTCOM COORDINATION CIRCUIT/

/TUBES 4, 5 - PRIMED/

"How is this in any way a good idea?!"

"It's not!"

" _Tubes are vac'd!_ "

" _Rails are hot!_ "

Standing locked onto a launch carriage, Amber reflected morosely on the chain of events that had brought her here. They'd tried to just launch straight from the hangar bay, but the irate deckmaster had put a stop to that. Something about 'still cleaning up the fucking scorch marks from the last time you tried that shit so don't you fucking dare get your sorry fucking ass out of here this fucking instant'.

So there they were, all revved up and ready to go, thrusters ready and inertial dampers on, standing around and staring at each other. Dawn had been just about ready to charge through the hangar shields when Amber noticed a fighter being lowered into a launch tube. That led to an idea, which she'd floated to Dawn. That, in turn, led to a discussion with the COFO, which led to where she was now, about to be flung into space by a glorified railgun meant to hurl fighters fast enough to get them beyond the cruiser's own flak field without being shot down.

" _Tubes are open!_ "

" _Launching in three, two, one, launch!_ "

A moment of stillness, and then her stomach pancaked into the back of her gut, followed by her throat shriveling up and her lungs doing their best impression of a crumpled plastic bag. Her eyes bulged from the force and a lungful of air vented itself into the evacuated launch tube.

The acceleration reached its peak, then disappeared, allowing all her internal structures to resume normal operations. Amber gasped for breath, never mind the fact vacuum surrounded her. She was a kanmusu, she could do shit like that.

A thought activated her radio. "Dawn, comm check."

"Stowed away! God, let's never do that again!"

"Agreed." Her NAV spat out a burn solution and, orienting herself towards Spirit's last reported coordinates, she burned the thrusters. Though she was hard to make out, another pinpoint of light marked where Dawn was also just beginning her acceleration run. Amber directed her sensors to maintain contact, the slight tingling feeling of lidar and radar on her skin telling her Dawn was doing the same.

A fighter burned past between them, presumably on its way back from patrol. She ignored it, pushing her reactor to the redline as the distance between her and her target closed.

10000… 9000… 5000… 3000… 1500… 200… 50… 25… 9…

"Got a visual, I see her!"

* * *

/UNSC INFINITY/

/INTERNAL SUBSYSTEM 5.0091.2786/

Chief grunted against the increased gravity in the training room. With a final heave, he pushed the barbell back onto its rests, dialing the weight settings back down to Earth standard. A quick gulp from the canteen and a wipe of the towel later, he was ready to move onto the next portion of his regimen. In the past he'd trained near constantly, and being the one of the oldest active duty Spartans in the UNSC only meant he had a standard to maintain.

He exited the weight room, stepping into the armor assembler. Holding out his arms, Chief allowed the machine to whirl to life, taking pieces of his MJOLNIR armor and piecing them together with the surgical precision and robotic efficiency. A far cry from the days of two-hour plus suiting up sessions involving an army of technicians, modern day armor assemblers could build a complete set of MJOLNIR in less than fifteen minutes, provided a full body scan and neurological profile.

Fourteen minutes later he stepped down from the dais, covered from head to toe in that shade of green so instantly recognizable across human space. Chief lifted his arms to inspect the machine's handiwork and, satisfied with the job, turned towards the live fire room.

"Simulation A16, one opponent, threat level 5."

Grabbing a sniper rifle, a pistol, and a full loadout of training munitions, he stepped through the entrance. The real world disappeared behind him, replaced with a holographic backdrop. Around him, a city sprang to life, buildings and roads painted to life by hard light projectors spaced around the massive room. The industrial grey of instacrete shimmered into existence, factories and refineries rising into the air. In the distance, a tower belched steam into the sky as conveyor belts dumped raw ore into the buildings beneath it.

It was not to this scenery that Chief paid attention to, however. Sticking to the sides of the buildings, he made his way through the streets, pistol drawn and searching for targets. Somewhere out there was an Abyssal sniper, surely looking for him just as he was looking for them. If he allowed his mind to wander, he could almost feel their eyes upon him, the crosshairs coming to a rest over his helmet, the sniper's finger caressing the trigger… but he didn't. Because that would be losing focus, and Spartans didn't lose focus or lose sight of the mission.

Coming to a stop with his back up against a roadblock, he made himself small, searching the skyline for any hints of a sniper nest. A reflection off a scope, a bird flying away, a small crumble of debris, a movement in the darkness, any of those could mean something was there and was watching him. His gaze wandered over the skyscrapers, the smokestacks, office buildings and abandoned factories. A lonely breeze swept a fragment of newspaper down the street.

There.

He dropped to the ground and crawled into a doorway, getting himself out of the line of fire. Securely within the four walls of a warehouse, he jogged up the stairs, holstering the pistol and shouldering the sniper. Once again going prone, he crawled his way to a window partially blocked by boards and debris. Setting himself up a good ways back from the opening, he sighted the rifle through the window, searching for that flicker of light that he'd seen.

There it was again. Swinging the long barrel around, he activated the 10x zoom, bringing the reticule over the flicker, finger poised to pull the trigger…

Nothing. Simply a mirror mounted on a small stand, positioned to catch the light. He'd been had.

Something tickled at the back of his mind and Chief dropped smoothly into a backwards roll as a kinetic penetrator vaporized a chunk of the floor. He could imagine the look of frustration on the Abyssal's face as its target disappeared from sight. The thought made him smile a bit under his helmet.

He laid there, not moving a muscle. In his mind he replayed the moment, examining the angle of the shot, factoring in wind speed, gravity, temperature, letting his suit's ballistic computers crunch the numbers. A red icon appeared in his HUD.

Chief let his breathing relax, recalling Linda's sniping tips. Plan your motions, let no move go to waste. Every action must lead to the next action; if you make a needless move, you're dead. Roll to the side, come up kneeling, snap the shot off, keep moving, never assume success, aim again, full breath in, half breath out, steady, pressure on the trigger…

The echoes of the sabot round breaking hypersonic velocities died slowly. The Wo's body slumped over and fell from its perch high up on an office building, a neat hole center mass trailing blood and viscera. A startled look decorated its surprisingly human face, as if it couldn't believe it had been defeated. The blue light went out of its eyes as it hit the ground, a muffled crunch reaching Chief's ears. A quick look through the scope confirmed its death.

The simulation disappeared as Chief returned to ground level, gritty grey returning to stark white. His win-loss record floated in the air: 1546-27.

"Master Chief, sir?" A marine stood in the entrance, half in and half out of the room, an uncertain expression on his face. If Chief remembered his faces, the marine was one of the soldiers he'd picked up in Sydney. Somehow they'd stuck with him ever since.

"Yes, marine?"

"Sir! Admiral Lasky wants you to report to compartment 4B6 ASAP! Says he's got a new mission for you!"

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/ONI ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/SECTION FOUR/

/Tokyo. Is everything in place?/

/Hai. London's fudged the records and Kabul's dealing with anyone who objects./

/Good. I've looked over the dossiers on Operation HAYMAKER. Are you sure they'll work together?/

/If they don't, we have spares./

/True enough. Termination squads are on standby?/

/Yes, though they shouldn't be necessary./

/That's how I like it. Clean./

/How're things on your end? Admiral Osman giving you problems?/

/No, I've been able to keep her off our backs. Consider yourself lucky. Did you know she tried to have Beta Cell knocked off a few days back?/

/Wait, really? She tried to off Warsaw?/

/Yeah. I only found out from breaking into her private communications. I arranged for the ship carrying the black ops team to suffer an unforeseen slipspace accident, but I'll need to have Ottawa and Jakarta keep a closer eye on Section Three from now on./

/Heh. Never liked the Threes anyway. Ever since the Bitch knocked off Parangosky, they've been her personal attack dogs. I mean, they were Parangosky's as well, but at least they were somewhat constructive back then./

/I hear you. How goes the riots?/

/Putting them down as we speak. The disturbances on Janus and Markot have imploded; the rioters are turning on their own people. I'm arranging for troops to be deployed to Carsith. Complete comm blackout has already been instituted there, so they'll be firing at will./

/That's it? Rather gentle of you, don't you think?/

/Sometimes orbital nuclear bombardment gets old. Besides, those colonies somewhat important. Constitution? Now that was the textbook definition of an irrelevant, self-righteous, backwater hick colony. So far as I'm concerned, that was pest control./

/50 megaton pest control. Well, seeing as we both have work to do, I'll leave you with one last question. Do you foresee any problems with this Project KANMUSU?/

/Berlin and Beijing - mostly Beijing - are keeping an eye on it, but I don't think there'll be problems. Wash, you know I'm a pretty pessimistic girl, but I think that KANMUSU might actually work, despite the stupid-ass name; I mean, really. _Shipgirl?_ Saying it in Japanese doesn't make it any better, you know? Still, call me over-optimistic, call me foolish, but based on what I think I saw at Earth… we might actually have a damn hope for once./

/We'll see Tokyo. We'll see. Washington, out./

/INTSEC INTERNAL COMMUNICATIONS - TERMINATED/


	20. Chapter 19

Ballet secured his helmet and flight armor in the locker, sighing in relief as the constricting feeling of the skintight carbon fiber mesh disappeared from his body. He frowned and brushed a bit of dust off the titanium chest plate; the coating needed to get redone soon.

"Hey, Ballet, what's shakin'?" His front seater walked up behind him holding two steaming cups.

"Oh, Spinner, didn't see ya there. Just thinking about what we saw out there… I mean, we flew during the battle, but I didn't really believe it, you know? But actually seeing that, whole different thing, ya know?"

"Oh, I hear you. Well, they've got drinks going in the ready room. Wanna come?"

"Sure, give me a sec, gotta stow this here vac-gear. I swear, it never fi-"

"Gangway! Hit the walls!"

The two pilots reacted quickly to the shouted order. Spinner flattened herself against the wall while Ballet squeezed into his locker. A cluster of personnel wearing a veritable rainbow of uniforms raced by, crowded around something Book couldn't make out. They passed quickly, allowing him to - painfully - extract himself from his locker.

"Oh, God, the damn lox tank! My back! Uugh… Spinner, didja see what that was all about?"

"Yeah - that was the girl we stumbled on!"

"Really?" Ballet stepped into the middle of the corridor and peered at their rapidly receding backs. "Damn - wonder how she's gonna be?"

"Looked kinda messed up. Scratch that, really messed up. Well, if the tender graces of the HM1 - I mean, HMCS - have anything to say about it, she'll pull through. Hikowa's ego won't let it come to anything else." She looked for a little longer, then shrugged and handed Ballet one of the cups she'd somehow managed to keep from spilling.

A new pair of voices came to their ears, starting quietly but slowly getting louder. "Dammit! We lost them!"

"Don't you have a map?"

"I can't read it, it's too complicated!"

A set of footsteps sounded from behind them. Two girls dressed in UNSC Navy BDU's jogged into the corridor, postures radiating anxiety. One of them held a datapad, turning it every which way and scratching her head. The other looked around at the walls, reading every posted sign with a half-hopeful expression.

"Hey. Aren't those two…?"

"Yeah, we passed them on our landing pattern. Hey! Hey! You two!"

"Eh?" The two jumped in surprise, nearly tripping over themselves. "H-hey there, didn't see you."

"You're Dawn, right? And you're Amber. Or have I got it backwards…?"

"No, you're right. And… I'm sorry, I don't know your names?"

"Oh! I'm Spinner, and this is my lazy-ass, good for nothing Wizzo, Ballet."

"Hey! Don't call me good for nothing!"

"Ahem." Amber interrupted the pilots, holding out a datapad. "Sorry, but do you know the way to the medbay? We're trying to follow our… friend, but we got lost."

"Your friend? Oh, you mean that other girl." Spinner winced at the memory. "Sorry about that. She looked really roughed up."

"Yeah, that sounds like Spirit of Fire."

"Spirit of-" Ballet spewed a mouthful of coffee, eliciting a yelp of disgust from Dawn. "You say what?!"

"Eh heh heh, that was me as well. But in all seriousness, do you know where the sickbay is?"

"Well, yeah, sure! Come on, we'll take you there!"

* * *

/UNSC HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL/

/MEDICAL BAY STERILE FIELD - ON/

/LEVEL 4/

"Nanojector?"

"Check."

"Laser?"

"Check."

"Autodoc?"

"Check."

In a way, they were lucky. Being in vacuum meant most of the blood flow had boiled off, leaving behind a residue that formed a partial seal over the wounds. Unfortunately, it hadn't gone quite quickly enough.

"Do we have a match on the blood analysis yet?"

"No ma'am. Either we hit her up with the immunosuppressants or we operate without blood supply."

"No synthetic?"

"We used our entire supply back at Earth."

"Dammit. And you're absolutely certain we need to operate?"

"Collapsed lung. Bone fragments everywhere. Internal bleeding. Contusions on major organs. Yeah, she's basically a sack of skin holding together miscellaneous ground meats. By all rights, she should be dead."

"Fucking shit… just had to get out of fuckin' bed this morning." Hikowa went to rub her temples, but then remembered her presently bloodstained hands and thought better of it. "Okay. We know the music, let's dance the dance. Shevchenko, start up the suppressants."

"Yes ma'am, flow commencing."

"Lee, are the tissue regenerators prepped?"

"Got 'em right here."

"Autodoc?"

" _Yes, corpsman. What may I do for you today?_ "

She took a deep breath in, settling her nerves, trying to enter that state in which she saw nothing, heard nothing, knew nothing, felt nothing except for the task in front of her. A monomolecular scalpel rested in her palm, the familiar weight giving her an anchor. The part of her mind that screamed _holy shit she's the Spirit of Fire what the fuck is happening what the fuck am I doing what the fuck what the fuck_ ate a mental artillery barrage and shut up; her patient was a patient and her identity didn't matter. What mattered was that there was medicine to be practiced.

"Begin procedure: site one."

* * *

/UNSC INFINITY/

"Please, settle down." The air in the cramped room was nearly stifling, the ventilation systems not designed to cope with so many people. Commander Laumer tried to impose a semblance of order upon the herd as "Lieutenant Eichel" fiddled with a holoprojector behind him.

Garcia sat at the front, having arrived early to claim a folding chair for himself. Major Armandez, as nominal commander of ground forces, occupied the seat next to him. And as no chair could accommodate his fully armored bulk, Chief stood in the rear, still as a statue.

"Gotcha!" After much fiddling the holoprojector sprang to life, painting a three dimensional starscape in the air. Its appearance did what the commander couldn't, and a hush settled over the audience and allowing Laumer to begin the briefing.

"Yesterday, we succeeded in breaking the encryption on the recovered files. As our very first intel scoop from an Abyssal capital ship, we acquired a massive amount of information. The gathered data is still being analyzed by dedicated AIs, but they've seen fit to provide us with some interesting tidbits. Lieutenant Eichel?"

"Of course, commander." She stepped forward, gazing out over a sea of faces. A subtle wave of her hand, and the projection focused in on a single star system.

"Tau Primatus 40. Uninteresting, unimportant, unnoticed. Not worth so much as an unmanned probe - at least, until now."

The hologram blurred, the image refocusing and resolving itself. A rumble swept through the crowd as the focus of the briefing became apparent.

The dark, oblong, lumpy shape slowly rotated, suspended in space. Lights flickered along its flanks, small objects flitting in and out of openings hidden within its bulk. It passed in front of the local star, silhouetted against the glare of the red dwarf.

"From the files, this appears to be a minor Abyssal repair and replenishment station, designated as 128819-B. It's host to very little traffic, primarily functioning as a way station on the route between the front and Abyssal staging areas."

"Force deployment files pulled from the boarded Abyssal indicate that the station is currently host to a small flotilla, Abyssal designation Patrol Group 891-G. Composed of six I-class frigates, two Ha-class destroyers, and one Ho class light cruiser, the flotilla is meant to operate in a small region of space and report disturbances back to the Abyssal high command."

"So, in essence, this station and its current inhabitants are unimportant, unnoticed, and weak. In other words, perfect for our needs."

She ceded the stage to Laumer. "Ladies, gentlemen...," he sought for the appropriate word, "... ships. Admiral Lasky has greenlit this target. He believes this will be a good demonstration of our little project's potential for the brass. He's given us Level 5 asset requisition authorization and full leeway to do as we see fit. All he requires is that we get this done."

"Thank you commander, lieutenant." Garcia stood and addressed the room. "Alright people, we have our mission. I want force compositions, logistics requirements, timetables, on my desk by this time in two days. Let's get it done!"

* * *

"And in conclusion, that's why Longswords were, are, and will be the best multirole fighters ever devised, and why the Broadsword is shitastic, QED."

"Hey, hey, hey, you can't just diss the Broadsword like that! I'll take a Broad over a Long for aerospace superiority any day!"

"Oh, sure, Mr. 'Muh 30 millimeters are so much better than 50 millimeters', you just keep on dreaming."

"Why you-!"

"Boys, girls, as entertaining as this fight is, we're gonna have to break it up." Acting as one, Spinner and Amber reached out and grabbed ahold of their more hot-headed comrades. A brief smacking together of heads later and the journey to the sickbay resumed, this time more peacefully.

"So…" ventured Ballet, rubbing a fresh lump on his forehead, "You're actually what they say? You know, ship spirits from the Great War and all that?"

"Yep."

"Ah." He chewed on that for a bit. "So what was it like back then? Back when you guys were fighting the Covies?"

"Kind of like now, actually. Running low on everything, scrambling after every glimmer of hope, throwing hundreds of ships at a single planet just to lose them all. Really, the only difference is scale; you guys have freakin' _thousands_ of ships."

"That reminds me, are the Covies still a thing? Nobody's bothered to tell me, I just assumed we'd made a truce with them or something."

"Huh." Ballet snapped his fingers. "About that. Spinner, didn't you go big game hunting on Doisac once?"

"Yeah, had the Brutes' heads and everything back home before home got glassed. I also hear Jackal meat tastes like chicken."

"Same, it's a delicacy back on Earth. Got a lot of hype when the first restaurants opened. I think we've got the Grunts slaving in the gas mines."

"True that. Little buggers finally making themselves useful, and for half rations at that. I think we feed them with Drones."

The kanmusu exchanged a surprised, if satisfied kind of smirk. "And the Prophets?"

"No one actually knows. ONI put a curtain around the system, nobody gets in or out. We don't ask, they don't tell. And frankly, I'm not sure I want to know what goes on in there."

"Well, that's pretty cool. Any news on the eli-"

"Move! Out of the way!" For the second time that day the pilots hit the walls. The kanmusu were not so quick on the uptake and thus found themselves on the receiving end of several hundred pounds of marines in a hurry.

"Pah!" A fresh size-10 regulation bootprint on her face, Dawn struggled to her feet, nursing the red mark. "What in the-"

"They're headed for the sickbay! Something's happening! Quick, let's go!" All pain forgotten, the four broke into a sprint, running down corridors which buzzed like a beehive sprayed with a hose.

"Hey-"

"What the-"

"What's goin-"

"-ere are yo-"

20 meters from the sickbay entrance, they skidded to a halt as a marine came flying out, slammed against the wall and slid to the floor in a daze. The sudden transformation of a fully armored soldier into a glorified ragdoll put a stop to their headlong dash. Ballet rushed to the marine's side, pulling him away from the doorway and propping him up.

"What's going on in there?!"

"Girl… fighting… can't control… too strong…" He trailed off and slumped into unconsciousness. Ballet cursed and slapped a medical beacon on the marine, marking him for pickup by the medics. When he looked up, Spinner had pressed herself against the wall beside the sickbay entrance, motioning for Ballet to stack up next to her. Maintaining proper breaching discipline, he took up a position on the other side of the door. He had to force down a lump in his throat; he was a pilot, not a marine! His job wasn't to clear rooms! It wasn't his job to deal with the source of those shouts, screams and thumps!

Spinner risked a peek around her corner, holding her head out for two seconds before whipping it back, face white as a sheet. Her expression wasn't doing anything for his nerves; just to check for proper placement, definitely not to comfort himself, he placed his fingers on the butt of his pistol.

His copilot jerked her chin towards the door. _You go._

 _What?_ Frantically whipping his head back and forth, he pointed at her. _No, you go!_

 _You go!_

 _No fucking way!_

 _I'll tell Plushie about your comic stash!_

… _You wouldn't._

 _Try me!_

 _Okay! Okay! I'll do it, I'll do it, just don't tell her! Jesus, anything but that!_

As Spinner relayed the plan to the kanmusu, Ballet fit his hand around the grip of his pistol, flicking off the safety but keeping his finger far from the trigger. A quick eject confirmed 17 rounds of 12.7 mm SAPHE securely loaded in the magazine. He slapped the bullets back in, racked the slide back and held up three fingers.

"Three, two, one, go!"

He swung into the open as an empty biofoam canister sailed past his head, hitting the wall with an empty metal clang. He had no idea what to expect; perhaps a pysch patient had snapped and was attacking the medics. Perhaps someone had messed up a dose, or given the wrong drug and there'd been a bad reaction. Maybe a fight had broken out; really, even with modern medicine, there were so many things that could go wrong with a human body it was impossible to account for them all.

"What's going on i-"

"You! Get over here and help!"

"I-wha?" Blinking confusion, he lowered his pistol. The corpsman glared at him, gesturing violently.

"Are you brain-dead?! Get in there and fucking help!" The man turned back to helping his friend, slumped against an operating table with a trickle of blood running down the back of his neck. Not knowing what else to do, Ballet holstered the pistol and jogged towards the corpsmen crowded around another operating table.

"Um, hey, I was just wondering what's going on, is there anything I c-"

"Grab her arm!"

"Huh?" A corpsman grunted in pain, falling to her knees and clutching her stomach, opening up a space for Ballet to shoulder his way into the scrum and finally allowing him a clear view.

"What the fuck is thi-" A fist, wrenching itself loose from the hold of a marine, whipped towards his face. Uttering a distinctly unmanly squeak he caught the blow on his forearm, rattling his bones and leaving a mark that would be there for quite a while. With a savage lunge the soldier caught hold of the offending limb and pinned it down with Ballet's assistance.

"Jesus!" He stared at the scene laid out before him upon the table. Corpsmen, attempting to administer to their patient, wrestled legs and arms into submission, trying to clear a path for their comrades to aid their inexplicably uncooperative patient. Blood pooled everywhere, the result of scalpel cuts gone astray from the girl's thrashing. One use nanoinjectors lay scattered and forgotten, sedative doses expended in vain.

The huddle across from him parted to admit Spinner and two kanmusu. Medics looked askance at the sudden interlopers but accepted the assistance they offered anyway.

"Ballet, what the hell?!"

"I've no idea, don't ask me, ask them! She's their friend, they should know what's happening!"

The corpsman in charge, face obscured behind a surgical mask, finally got a tube down Spirit's throat, flicking the switch to start oxygen flow. Holding the flaps of skin and flesh apart with clamps, she pressed a nanoinjector against what appeared to be a lung, delivering its payload of medibots into the battered organ.

"Oh, thank fucking God that's done. Autodoc, clean up site one and move on-"

The medics nearly lost control of Spirit's limbs, clasping their ears as the head-splitting shriek of the biomonitors threatened to rupture eardrums. Her back arched upward, one final convulsion seizing her body before it fell back, still. Readouts spiked erratically, her vital signs giving the monitors seizures with activity.

"What the hell?!"

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck-"

"Adverse reaction, adverse reaction, she's rejecting the nanos!"

"Corrin, suppressants all the way up! Schmidt, isolate that area and trigger breakdown!"

Stepping back and watching the proceedings, Amber could already tell that they were futile. Conventional treatments weren't working; Spirit's physiology was simply too foreign, her injuries too severe. The playbook had nothing, no strategies, no tricks, nothing for the corpsmen to go on. Amber could see what little life remained trickling away.

Luckily for them, their playbook was not the only one around.

 _Damage control, on station!_

* * *

DAMCON Team Five slumbered, wrapped up in standard issue UNSC blankets. They slept with one ear open, always ready for the blaring of the klaxon. Firefighting gear was never more than ten meters out of reach, and respirators seemed to be a permanent fixture around their necks. If the alarm sounded, they'd be fully awake in three seconds and geared up in two minutes, ready to patch breaches, put out fires and rescue the wounded. Now, though, there was no battle, no damage to repair, and so they sl-

 _ALERT_

 _ALERT_

 _DAMAGE CONTROL_

 _MAN YOUR BATTLESTATIONS_

In an explosion of movement, the fairies lept from their bunks and sprinted for their lockers. They grappled with the thick, white, fireproof fabric of their suits, wriggling into the protective outfits with practiced ease. Bulky atmosphere tanks and repair kits bouncing on their backs, they ran for their stations, feet pounding out a steady rhythm on the deck.

Skidding to a halt at their battle stations, they swung repair kits onto the ground, pulling out sealant, cutters, nanofiber mesh, collapsible airlocks and fire extinguishers. All keyed up and ready to go, the fairies searched for the fires, the holes, battle damage they were supposed to be putting right.

But there was none. No atmo leaks, no fires raging out of control. Unexpectedly without a purpose, they dropped their tools and stood around, confused and more than a little bit irked at having their rest interrupted. Several, seeing no work to be done, began to head back to their warm, soft bunks, cursing the officers who pulled the stunt.

Those officers suddenly made their presence known. With diagrams and holoprojectors they briefed the DAMCON teams on their actual mission. Confusion turned into understanding and irritation into determination. The fairies took possession of the charts, assessing the situation and hashing out the details. The more inexperienced among them took one look at the magnitude of the problem and declared it lost.

One fairy, considering the repairs that would be required, came to an unpleasant realization. He made eye contact with his group leader; she'd come to the same conclusion. The officer in charge nodded and handed over a small key.

Another fairy accepted the item and, along with the commander, stood in front of a pair of recessed slots. As one they inserted the keys and turned, popping open a heavy metal panel and exposing a large vial of green glowing liquid.

* * *

"Admiral Garcia?"

"Yeah?" He looked up from the datapads spread out on his temporary desk. "Oh, you two. What's up?"

"We're here to talk supplies, hm~?"

"Supplies?" His stomach climbed into a drop pod and fell from high orbit without retro rockets. "W-well, Admiral Lasky has given us access to the supply depots, but I don't how much we have on hand…"

"It's not that. I, well, Autumn?"

"Here." She felt around behind her neck and, with a small chink, pulled out a small metal tube. Garcia's eyes followed it down to his desk - where had that thing come from? He eyed it suspiciously, unwilling to make physical contact with a manifestation of sparkly magic anime shipgirl bullshit.

"That's my last Archer. And when I say last, I mean last, hm~?"

"She's right. I had an inventory done, I'm the only one with something like full magazines."

He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Just lettin' you know. If we go in as we are, we could probably take them, but it's gonna hurt a helluva lot more than if we had ammo."

"I'll be sure to take that into account. Thank you for letting me know."

"Sir!" They each snapped a quick salute before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Garcia was left with another problem on his quickly mounting pile of problems.

"Goddammit. And where the _hell_ am I supposed to get the ammo from?"

* * *

"Hand me an 'Italian' wouldja?"

"You can tell the difference?"

"No." Dawn caught the meal pouch and tore the cover, activating the embedded heating strip. Thirty seconds later steam wafted up from the spinach ravioli. She shook open a synthetic cheese packet, poured herself a cup of water, sat down against a counter and tucked into the filling, if not exactly tasty, meal.

Choking down another mouthful of pasta, she peeked over at Spirit's immobile form. A forest of IV lines snaked around her arm, delivering precious fluids into her bloodstream.

"Hey, do you have any chocolate in yours?"

"Shit, sorry man, all I got is these shitty little taffies."

Dawn perked up from her food. "Taffy?"

"Yeah… why?"

"Trade you this mochi."

"Done!" She slid the rice cake over and took possession of the little candies. Popping one in her mouth, Dawn savored the sweet stickiness, rolling it around with her tongue and trying to shape it with her teeth.

"Well, I don't know what the fuck was in that needle, but it seems to have worked. Magic sparkly anime shipgirl bullshit or not, count yourself lucky I didn't have you shot as soon as you pulled out that needle." Hikowa threw her surgical mask on a table, grabbed a meal pouch and ripped it open. She took a look at the contents and blanched but poked her fork in anyway, extracting a piece of… what was allegedly "meat".

"When do you think she'll wake up?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Despite the blunt words a worried look shaded her countenance. "Whatever you jabbed in seems to have stabilized her condition - actually, more than stabilized. She's knitting herself back together faster than anything I've ever seen before; even nano doesn't work that fast." Her eyes lit up a little at the mention of the instant repair liquid. "You know, I'm going to need a sample of that sometime. For science, you understand."

"Right…" Tuning out the buzz of conversation, Dawn let her head fall back against the cold metal of the counter and closed her eyes. The hum of the ship forging its way through slipspace made its way into her bones, the pulse of the reactor and the rumbling of the thrusters producing a kind of background bass that settled her mind and body. With so much free time on her hands and nothing really to do with it her thoughts began to wander, dangerously so.

What were they supposed to do now? They'd protected Earth, repulsed the Abyssals, but only momentarily. The momentum, the initiative was on the side of the alien juggernaut. Everything that had happened was only a temporary setback for the xenos and unless they could capitalize on their small successes the Abyssals would roll right over them. Dawn hoped people smarter than her were coming up with some good plans because, from her perspective, with no ammo, no numbers and no backup, their situation was pretty fucking hopeless.

"Ugh…" Heads snapped around in shock. Hikowa dropped her meal, mouth gaping.

"What-how-how is she awake?!"

Failing to sit up, Spirit settled for letting her head fall back against the pillows at an angle that permitted her to see the room. Dawn strained to hear her whisper in a weak voice which barely carried over the shouting of the medics swarming around her.

"Where… where am I?"

* * *

It was said that the UNSC sourced its coffee from the pits of hell, grown in the fields of torment and roasted in rivers of hellfire then passed through Cerberus' digestive system like some kind of demonic kopi luwak. It was said that no man knew true suffering until he had gone through Spartan augmentations, survived a plasma grenade, and tasted UNSC coffee.

That, reflected Berlin, was being too kind to the foul brew in front of her. She made a mental note to have Washington seriously investigate the possibilities of using the sludge as a bioweapon and tossed the entire thing into a recycler. The machine got to work breaking the thing down into component atoms, the normally quiet disassembly mechanisms emitting a groan that sounded almost disgusted.

"Blegh. Gonna need mouthwash from the PX."

"My deepest condolences."

"Geh?!" She jumped and spun, landing in a half crouch, ready to fight or run at a moment's notice. Her surprise sympathiser put his hands up defensively, backing away from her like one would from a hissing cat.

"Easy there, ensign. I mean no harm."

"Oh, Jesus, don't scare me like that! Sorry, I'm just a little jumpy today."

"Oh I understand. We all have jobs to do, don't we?" An eyebrow arched over a green tinted projection visor. "Still, it would be nice to have a vacation. I hear Berlin is nice this time of year."

A shiver ran down Berlin's spine. It could have been a coincidence, but the mention of the German capital held held more meaning behind it than appropriate for casual conversation. As evenly as possible she replied, "Yes, I suppose so."

"Indeed. My family is in Beijing, but I spent my childhood in Berlin. Have you ever been there?"

"Once or twice. I have a friend there, she works for Occupation Networking Innovations."

"Does she?" His face remained expressionless, but Berlin swore she could sense smugness hidden behind that visor. "Well, Agent, I think that I would like to meet this friend of yours sometime."

"Is that you, Beijing?"

"Quite so. I'd imagine our dear Wash told you about me?"

"Yeah, though he didn't give me specific details, just said you'd find me."

"Good to see that boor is finally exercising some basic discretion." Beijing produced two cups of steaming brown liquid and proffered one. "Shall we, as they say, walk and talk?"

Berlin took the cup and sniffed, inhaling a rich aroma a world away from the weak smell of UNSC instant. The coffee was like a starburst on her tongue, and she nearly cried from the strong, smoky flavor.

"Ahem." Snapping out of her caffeine-induced ecstasy, Berlin hurried to catch up to her fellow IntSec operative, taking careful sips from the cup.

"How are things back home? It's been awhile since I've been back."

"Same shit different day. Ration lines still long as fuck, people are getting drafted left and right and seems like there's a new Innie bombing every week. The cops kick down a door every other day - hell, couple months ago I got dragged into the questioning room. Would still be there if Paris hadn't been in town and bailed me out."

"In essence, as good as could be hoped for?"

"Right in one." Her coffee didn't taste as good anymore now that she remembered how scarce the food was back on Earth. The flavor now carried with it a tinge of guilt as she recalled the ration lines winding through the streets and the cries of the hungry children in her apartment building.

"You should feel lucky. Earth is far better off than most worlds. Many planets would consider standing in ration lines a privilege." He polished off his beverage and tossed in a recycler. "Trust me when I say we are the lucky ones. Now, I'm sure you realize this is more than a courtesy call."

"Does it have to be?"

"Yes. Lasky's pet project has been ruffling some feathers back at base. You know the tall, brown haired, vulgar one?"

"Oh yeah, Everest. Why?"

"Osman's been fuming ever since Hood pulled her out of Sydney." A slight smile broke Beijing's impassive facade. "'Twas quite a sight to behold. Unlike most, however, she has the resources to make something out of that grudge."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well - actually, let's have a demonstration." He made a beeline for a sailor who'd just emerged from a compartment, Berlin trailing in his wake. "Hello there, sailor."

"Oh, hello! What's up?" The sailor's friendly expression turned suspicious as Beijing drew close. "Hold on, you're ONI, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am. I also suppose you wouldn't mind having a little chat, as a fellow spook?"

The sailor turned pale. "I-I don't what you're talki-"

"Spare me." Beijing's arm flickered, a movement so fast Berlin couldn't follow it. The sailor crumpled to the ground with a choked gasp, hands clutching his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell still.

Beijing knelt down and took his pulse. Whatever he came up with, it seemed to satisfy him. "Help me get this lout somewhere more discreet."

Mutely, Berlin complied, picking the sailor up by his feet. Together they carried the insensate man into an empty supply room, sealing the door behind themselves.

"Thank you." Working quickly, Beijing flipped the sailor onto his front. With some deft needle work he extracted a blood sample and plugged it into his TACPAD, nodding at whatever came up on the screen. "As I thought." He tilted the screen for Berlin to look.

"What's this… Tyler Osbourne… CLRINT55… Section Three?"

"Osman's on the warpath. She's going to sabotage this program if it's the last thing she does." He looked down at the body at his feet with a rare sneer of contempt. "And since Washington can't be bothered to off her himself, it's our job to stop her. So come on. Help me get this trash into the recycler."


	21. Chapter 20

/UNSC SECURE NETWORK/

/WARNING: ACCESS ATTEMPT DETECTED/

/ACTIVATING SECURITY SUBROUTINES/

"What are you up to…"

The steam from the coffee wafted up into the vents. Deft fingers moved across the keyboard, every press with a purpose.

"Tricky, tricky, time's a tickin', what are you doing back here Serin?"

Lines of code scrolled by too quickly for unaugmented senses too see. Firewalls and security programs attempted to strangle the intruder into submission but were batted away like flies. Windows and files flashed on and off the screen, wrenched from their resting places against their wills.

"Oh ho, is that so? How interesting…"

Warnings flashed and flickered as huge sections of network were shut down, temporary blockers isolating anti intrusion programs one by one behind massive walls of junk code and bad data. With security rendered prostrate the intruder had free reign over the sea of information, reading and stealing classified information at their leisure.

"I see… so that's how you want to play it?"

The fingers paused, contemplating their next move. One hand left the keyboard to grasp the mug's handle while the other made phantom typing motions. The cup produced a clunk as it was set down and the fingers made a few final strokes.

"How quaint, _mon amie_. Very well, your move."

The terminal blinked off, leaving only the soft red glow of a cybernetic eye.

* * *

* _Sniff_ *

"Achoo!"

"Bless you."

"Thanks…"

Spirit sniffed again and took a sip from the steaming mug in her hands. Monitors beeped softly, keeping a close eye on everything from her heartbeat to her temperature to the activity of her digestive enzymes. A large portion of her upper body was swathed in bandages, IV tubes running beneath the cloth strips. Medics came by every few minutes to swap out the bags and jack up the painkillers.

The pseudomorphine felt nice but it couldn't numb the hollow feeling inside her. The corridors of her hull, normally bustling with crew, were dead and silent. If any fairies had survived the initial battle they'd died alone and in pain, suffocating or bleeding out. Pale substitutes of her crew, not even properly sentient they were, but she had still been responsible for them and she'd failed.

"Well, your blood work looks good even if we can't classify your type. We've managed to scrounge up enough synthblood to take you off suppressants, so there's that as well. Your body's knitting up nicely, but I don't think you'll be taking the Abyssals on anytime soon." The medic lowered his datapad and frowned at her. "You okay? Uncomfortable? Something I can get you?"

"Huh? O-oh, no, no thank you, everything's fine."

"You sure? You got really roughed up, and if that was your first time tangling with the Abyssals then, well…" He smiled sadly. "Nobody would blame you for feeling like shit. People have killed themselves after experiencing less; that you're still here and sane is an achievement in and of itself."

No new reply came. He shrugged and adjusted her IV bags, making sure the liquid flow was unobstructed. "Just remember, if you ever need anything, anything at all, that call button's there for a reason." Everything in place, he turned to continue on his rounds.

"W-wait."

"Hm?"

"Could you… could I talk with an officer? Please?"

"An officer?" He thought for a moment. "Well, I could probably get Hikowa to talk with you, but you probably want Commander Mayard."

"Actually…" She hesitated, then screwed up her courage. "Could I… speak with someone… higher?"

"Higher ranked?" An eyebrow was cocked at this. "Well, highest ranking officer on this here ship is Captain Khalid. You want me to get him?"

A small, timid, but firm nod. "Yes please."

"Alright then. I'll see what I can do." He left, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Spirit put her mind to work. She hadn't come this far to fail. There might be a war on, but surely there had to be a way to convince the brass to spare some resources. Just one ship, one frigate, hell one corvette would be enough. All she needed was one ship to be spared from the line; she could show them the way. Every second she wasn't on her way was a second where her crew could be being baked by radiation, suffocating, flash-freezing… or worse.

But why would they? After all, though her crew might mean the world to her, the brass could not afford to be so sentimental. What use had they for a converted colony ship and its crew, especially one 50 years out of date? They had to think about the bigger picture, and every ship sent to rescue her family was a ship not holding the line for humanity. What would be the benefits of rescuing her crew? Just another logistical and administrative headache, that's what. She had a hard argument ahead of her.

"So you're Spirit of Fire?" She jerked out of her reverie. The medic waved at her, grinning and giving a thumbs-up.

A new person stood in the doorway, grey UNSC officer's uniform fresh pressed and gleaming. Her eyes focused on the shiny gold captain's bars velcroed to the officer's shoulders.

"Sir!"

The medic rushed to her side with a shout of alarm. A salute was rendered infeasible by the mass of tubes and bandages wrapped around her right arm, though it certainly didn't stop the automatic motion from trying its damnedest. She remembered the medical paraphernalia just in time to stop the gesturing from tearing the needles out of her arm.

"Easy there, at ease. These are special circumstances, I'm not going to stand on ceremony."

"Yes sir! Thank you for helping me, sir!"

"It was our pleasure." Pulling a chair over, he sat down next to her bed. "I assume you didn't just call me down to express your gratitude."

"Oh… um…" She hung her head. "Well… I was going to ask for something, but it just seems ungrateful now… I can't ask it of you…"

"I think I can guess. You want to talk to the brass?"

"Well - I - how did you-?"

"Because the brass have been wanting to talk to you for quite some time now." With that he pulled a holoprojector out, hooked it up to a datapad and placed it on her bedstand. A beep sounded and a hologram sprang to life. After her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, the first thing she registered was _holy fuck that's a lot of brass_.

"A-admirals! Sirs!" Two of the faces in front of her were unrecognizable, but one of them, despite decades of war and scars weathering and transforming it, still stirred a memory. "Comma- Admiral Hood!"

"Spirit of Fire. It's been a while."

"Sir! I! I… "

"No need for that right now. W-"

"Sir! I'm apologize for the insubordination, but… please! You have to help my crew!"

An awkward silence fell. Hood paused with his mouth half open as the two other admirals exchanged a glance. The medic fidgeted, keenly aware of just how far the situation was above his paygrade.

"Your crew? You mean…" His brow furrowed and a shadow passed over his face. "Captain Cutter and the others are… still alive?"

"Yes! Please! The Flood is on board with them, please, you have to get them out!"

"The Flood?" Hood shot a look at the man to his right. A quick, curt nod and the man's avatar blinked out of existence. "Very well. May we have the exact coordinates?"

"Um… okay…" She rattled off a string of numbers pulled from her memory banks. "Will that work?"

"Yes. Rest assured that we'll do our utmost to have them back here safe and sound."

"Wait! You have to know! The Flood! It's not like the Covenant, you can't ju-" He held up a hand to cut her off.

"We have procedures for dealing with FIRESTORM contingencies." The way he said 'firestorm' forced a shiver up Spirit's spine.

"Now, as nice as it's been seeing you again, other matters demand my attention. I'll catch up on old times with you later, but before I go, I believe Admiral Garcia here wanted to ask you something?" Hood gestured to the other officer, ceding the stage. The man nodded and leaned forward, an eager glimmer in his eyes.

"Forgive the abruptness, but are your production facilities still intact?"

* * *

" _Approaching ship, identify yourself or be fired upon._ "

"Apex Station, this is UNSC Hope Springs Eternal, requesting docking clearance."

" _Hope Springs Eternal, transmit your security codes._ "

"Roger that Apex, transmitting now."

" _Codes received Eternal, clearance granted. Welcome home boys, nice work out there._ "

"Thanks. Prep a hot meal for us, would you?"

"' _S the least we can do, you've earned it. Come on in._ "

Moving on momentum alone, the cruiser glided towards the dark mass of the station. Behind it, a pinpoint of light flared briefly as the Blackbird corvette which had been tailing it in accelerated back towards its holding position.

Maneuvering thrusters threw out tiny bursts of exhaust, guiding the multi-million ton cruiser to a full stop next to the docking port. As soon as the relative velocity was zero tractor clamps engaged, locking the ship into position. Universal airlock adaptors snaked out to connect the ship's airlocks to the station. They bulged as fresh atmosphere filled their interiors before snapping rigid as internal braces connected and structural integrity fields turned on. Meter thick blast door unsealed and slid to the side as atmosphere retention fields disappeared.

The ship's marine complement disembarked first, marching triple file in full battle dress with rifles at their sides. A respectful hush fell over the watching sailors as the soldiers trooped past, gaps in the formation left poignantly unfilled.

The sailors and officers came off next in a looser gaggle, carrying with them various pieces of equipment that needed replacing. Unlike the marines a low murmur of conversation permeated their ranks, though they kept their voices low out of respect for their comrades who would never see another port of call. The dead would be unloaded separately and given last rites. Dog tags, mementos and flags would be sent to families. The bodies, or what was left of them, would be dumped in recyclers; resources were resources.

With disembarkment complete activity resumed in the receiving terminal. Automated carriages brought in fresh supplies and equipment to replenish what had been expended. Crate after crate of food and water went on board to be stowed in the massive storage bays. Racks of missiles and PDG ammo were delivered as well, technicians handling the ordnance with extreme care.

Dawn poked her head out as a cart loaded with PDG rounds trundled past. Seeing the coast was relatively clear, she stepped out onto the exit ramp, motioning for Amber to follow.

"So where does Garcia want us to go again? The com-a-sorry?"

"Commissary, yes. Said we needed to pick some stuff up, didn't specify though."

"Oh, cool. I just hope that we can meet up with Everest and Autumn soon. Haven't seen'em in a while."

Meandering their way through the halls, they took a moment to appreciate the fact that they had spare time on their hands. No problems called for their attention, no battles for them to fight, they were just UNSC personnel doing UNSC things. Most of the personnel on the station had no idea what these 'kanmusu' who'd been all over the news looked like, so to the crew of Apex Station they were worth not much more than a passing glance. It was refreshing, really, after having to deal with an entire cruiser-full of sailors with so. Goddamn. Many. Questions.

Following the signs, they approached the commissary. As Dawn rounded the corner to enter the store, her face sank into something soft. And tall. And thick. And…

"Who the fuck is that?!"

… pissed.

"Do you not have fucking eyes?! Look where the fuck you're going before I fucking run you over you fucking sack of - oh, it's you." Everest poked her head around the stack of duffel bags and clothes, blinking irritated surprise at the sudden obstruction. Extracting her face from a pillow, Dawn grinned sheepishly, rubbing her nose.

"Oh, hey, my favorite frigates! Long time no see, hm~?"

"Autumn, it's been two days."

"Nah, it's fine, glad to see you too." Amber glanced up and down the pile of cloth occupying Autumn's arms, raising an eyebrow at a couple more… _risqué_ articles poking out here and there. "Might want to stow that underwear."

"Hm? Oh, thanks, knew I'd missed something, hm~?" She pulled the bra from under a stack of t-shirts and stuck it in the side pocket of a duffel bag.

"What's with the shopping spree aftermath anyway?"

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be finding out soon enough. Garcia's waiting for you in there."

"Good luck! We're on Deck 8, Compartment 8J, come find us once you're done, hm~?"

"Sure…" The cruisers departed with a wave, teetering under piles of standard issue clothing and toiletries. The frigates watched them for a few more seconds, then exchanged an apprehensive glance. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Dawn stepped forward to receive whatever she had coming.

"FFG-201, Forward Unto Dawn reporting, s-"

A plastic bin dropped into her arms, cutting her off. "Wha-?" Before she could speak, in went a duffel bag stuffed to the gills, followed by two more, then a pair of utility boots, a pair of dress shoes, a toiletry bag, blankets, and pillows.

Staggering under the sudden weight Dawn made her way forward, determined to report to her CO. She didn't get very far as the weight of a full UNSC Marine Corps Battle Dress Uniform fell onto her, followed by associated tactical gear.

That was the tipping point. She couldn't lean back any further. The bin went spilling to the ground, followed closely by its hapless owner.

"Mmf! Mmmmf!" She rolled around on the ground, trying to extract her head from where it was wedged in a CH252 helmet. The headgear had somehow gotten stuck on backwards, blinding and deafening her. The varied personnel manning the supply line stopped and stared, some torn between laughing and helping, others simply recording the moment for posterity.

Sighing with embarrassment, Amber set her own pile down and knelt down to assist her fellow shipgirl. "Here let me- stop moving! - let me get this off you - seriously, stop rolling around! - got it!" She yanked the helmet off, revealing a red-faced, panting, cross-eyed Dawn.

"Wipe that lewd off your face and pick up your stuff, we've still got a CO to meet." She walked off, leaving Dawn to stuff everything back into its proper place.

Past the gauntlet of supplies, staggering under the weight of Navy and UNSCMC basic kit, they were directed into an open door off to the side of the commissary. From the tiny crack between two t-shirts, Dawn spotted a table that seemed clear of objects. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth she rushed to the table and dropped the bin on its surface, collapsing insensately into a nearby chair. Amber managed to retain a little more dignity, gently setting her items down on the ground and sitting down properly.

"And you're sure about that? Well, thanks anyways. Let me know as soon as that changes." Putting away his phone, Garcia walked into the room, raising an eyebrow at Dawn's half-passed-out form. "Is she alright?"

"Oh, I'm sure she is."

"By the way, did you happen to see a datapad? Nothing important, but it was on the table."

"Uh…" Amber glanced at a shard of plastic poking out from under Dawn's bin. "No, I don't think so."

"Huh. Weird. Good thing there wasn't anything sensitive on it. I'll look for it later." He shrugged and drew up a chair for himself. "Down to business. I see they gave you the standard issue."

"I recall there being slightly less gear back in 2552."

"Well, you are getting it all at once. Plus, the brass decided to issue you both marine and navy kit so you're getting double the shit."

"Makes sense." She caught herself slouching and corrected her posture, leaning her elbows on the table. "Now, Autumn mentioned something about… room assignments?"

"Right." Garcia dug around in his pocket and slid two thin plastic cards over the table. "As the good Admiral Lasky has seen fit to grant our outfit Apex Station as a base of operations, you'll be quartered on board until further notice."

"Is that so…?" She took the card and examined it. "Deck 8, Compartment 8N?"

"That's right. I took the liberty of reserving all of Deck 8 for kanmusu accommodations and activities, seeing as I anticipate the future growth of the force. Now you have everything that you need, you can head over there and make yourselves at home." He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. As long as we're treating you like official UNSC personnel, might as well go the full nine yards. Miss Hikowa?"

"I'm here." Hikowa walked in holding a datapad with one hand and a nanojector with the other. "Just gotta finish registering the other two… done. Hey there Amber." She pocketed the tablet and twirled the nanojector around on a finger. "Don't worry, no needles. This operates on the nano level, so you shouldn't even feel anything."

"Huh? What's this?"

"We're getting you girls registered in the official UNSC personnel databases. You're putting in the work, you deserve the privileges and the only way to get those is to be registered. This-" She pointed at the device still spinning on her index finger. "-will place a unique nanotag under your skin, allowing all UNSC facilities connected to the mainline network to identify and grant you access to their services, if you've got clearance. It'll also take a DNA sample to be used for secondary ID verification and various other, uh, medical purposes. Yes. Medical." A strange glint in her eye didn't predispose Amber to believe that last part, but the rest sounded good.

"Alright then, as long as it's not a needle." She rolled up a sleeve and allowed Hikowa to press the nanojector to her arm, looking away and gritting her teeth despite the corpsman's reassurances.

"Aaaaand done." She turned to perform the same operation on Dawn.

"Congratulations, Amber. Or should I say, Lieutenant In Amber Clad?" Garcia stuck out his tongue as if he'd tasted something foul. "God, that's awkward. I need to come up with something better."

"Lieutenant?"

"That's right. Admiral Lasky has seen fit to authorize your immediate promotions to O-3, with all the rights and responsibilities that rank entails." With a grin, he handed her two hard plastic boxes. She opened one and, with shaking fingers, extracted the two double silver bars that laid within. "Once again, congratulations. The other one's for Dawn."

"Sir! Thank you, sir!"

"Don't mention it. Now, get yourselves stowed away and rested. Dismissed, lieutenant."

"Sir!" She shot to her feet and snapped a salute. Once Garcia returned it she roused Dawn from her momentary coma. They picked up their items bins and left the room, leaving Garcia and Hikowa to finalize the details of their registration. The admiral leaned back with a smile on his face; for once, everything was going as planned.

Then he saw the crushed datapad.

"Dammit!"

* * *

"Whoo, slumber party!"

Dawn let her bin fall for the final time, scattering clothes all over the floor. She proceeded grab a pillow and jump onto the bed, burying her face in said pillow.

"Hey, Dawn, we shoul- Dawn? Dawn?" Amber tapped the frigate on the shoulder. "HIGHCOM to Forward Unto Dawn."

Zzz… Zzz…

"Jeez…" She left the girl to snore and went to look for some food. Consulting the map on her datapad she found her way to the mess hall and grabbed a tray. As meat(?) and vegetables(?) were ladled into the compartments Amber looked around for a place to sit. She scanned the hall for a familiar face to plop down next to - a fellow shipgirl, a marine she'd met, even a sailor from the Eternal - but came up empty. All she was a sea of strangers, broken only by two truly _spectacular_ piles of foo-

 _Oh._

She made her way over to the cruisergirls and sat down in one of the empty spots that surrounded them. Ignoring the stares she dug into her own meal, spooning the grey sustenance into her mouth and choking it down.

"Hey, Amber, when'd you get here?"

"Just now, actually. Dawn's sleeping in our room, though I'd bring some food to her later."

"Cool." Everest downed a glass of apple juice, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good shit. Eat up, our first mission's in a few days and we'll need all the fucking calories for that one."

"Mission? Garcia knows we're down to a MAC round apiece, right? I don't have enough PDG rounds to shoot down a Seraph and Dawn's got exactly one Archer missile in her stocks."

"Ah, but you see, that's where our luck's bailed us out. You know Spirit?"

"Sure, last I saw she's moving under her own power. Why?"

"Her armaments got torn up but her production facilities are just fine. Which means-" A smirk appeared on the supercruiser's face. "-she'll be churning out all the ordnance we need."

"Really? She said so?"

"Yeah, I hear she's setting up shop in a spare storage bay right now."

"Holy shit, for real? Well, what're we waiting for? Finish eating and let's get over there!"

* * *

Standing in the middle of the massive compartment, Spirit closed her eyes and stretched out her arms. She tried to recall what it felt like to have a hull; to sail in the void, bringing hope and seeding life on desolate worlds. To shout defiance against enemy fleets while churning out everything the ground forces needed to hold the line. To heal with one hand while maiming with the other. She tried to remember the feeling of cold titanium encasing starcore hot plasma, life pulsing within a pressure vessel, a spot of warmth amidst the uncaring universe.

It was difficult. She knew she was Spirit of Fire, Phoenix-class colony ship refit, CFV-88. Inside, she even still felt like a warship; but she also felt like a girl. A human girl, with flesh and arms and legs. She had to reconcile the two, and that was not coming easily.

"Alright. One more try. You can do this." A deep breath in; hold it; let her mind turn inwards. Concentrate; this was important, maybe more important than anything she'd ever done. The two halves of her being were resisting; they didn't want to come together but they had to. She pushed against that barrier, threw herself against it, because if she could just break through she could do her duty-

The barrier shattered and, in a blinding flash of light, she was transformed. Sheets of armor covered her legs and arms, accompanied by squat, menacing gun turrets poking up at regular intervals. Twin reactors hung from her back, powering the massive propulsion cells weighing down her ankles. The only thing missing was a crew; the passageways of her rigging were silent. No fairies wandered through the hallways, no activity took place.

However, none of those were what concerned her. In her mind's eye appeared an inventory of everything carried within her cargo holds, from Scorpions to Pelicans to prefabricated firebases. She withdrew a laminated card from a side pocket and slotted it into the deployment bay on her left forearm.

A black rectangle unfolded in midair. Slowly, it expanded, extra mass appearing from nowhere. Bit by bit, a structure began to build itself, rising into the air and simultaneously reaching down to the ground.

When all was said and done a squat black trapezoidal prism sat on the floor, openings on either end. A whirring sound came from within, accompanied by the clanging of metal on metal. A small silver cone slid out one end of the prism where Spirit picked it up, turning it over in her fingers and examining its surface. Seemingly satisfied by whatever she was looking at she tossed it over to where Everest and Amber observed the proceedings. Everest caught the thing with one hand and, with a grin, loaded the shell into the MAC she had summoned just for the occasion. The gun accepted the slug, the breech emitting a whir that sounded almost eager as the shell entered into its magnetic embrace.

"We're back in business."

* * *

/UNSC _HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL_ /

/INT VID FILE - REC-1299/

"...tingency! Repeat, fir..."

"...ve, move, m...et her out of he...!"

"... ing loud, going lo... urn it down!"

 _...akkabrakkabrakkabrak..._

His eyes dipped towards shut once more, but the rain of hot brass casings put an end to that. "Aargh!" He jerked back, clutching his face where the hot metal had burned the skin.

"Captain Cutter, stay down sir! Keep firing!" A gloved hand on his head pushed it down into a bed of soft material as bursts of heat and flashes of light filled the air around him. The smell of cordite, brass, plasma and napalm hung heavy in the air, though all the chemicals in the world couldn't have gotten rid of that all-permeating smell of rot.

The thump of a grenade felt like someone had just slugged him in the stomach. Coughing and gagging he doubled over reflexively, putting him into a sitting position. Regaining his breath, he could finally take a good look around himself.

The armored form of an ODST was backlit by the flash of his assault rifle as he stood on the firing line, dumping tracers which sparkled and ignited fires into a charging horde of Flood. Incendiary grenades flew from underbarrel launchers, exploding in waves of napalm. The armored fuel tanks of Hellbringers stood out among the brawl as blue plasma poured from the ends of their flamethrowers, setting huge swathes of enemies ablaze in an inferno that nearly sucked all the air out of the compartment.

"Fire, fire, fi-gaarrgh!" An ODST fell, wrestling with a Flood infection form latched onto his faceplate. The struggle proved futile as the visor shattered, an agonized scream cut short as the macrovirus burrowed into his body. His pain did not last long. Another marine put a bullet through the infection form, splattering his brain onto the floor. A burst of plasma incinerated the remnants of his head and the virus and set the rest of his body alight.

"BURN BABY BURN! AHAHAHAHAH!" A Hellbringer ripped the regulators off his flamethrower, cackling as the stream of plasma turned into a roaring, billowing flood. Combat forms melted away upon contact, any trace of virus incinerated along with the first eight centimeters of deck plating. The soldier's laughing as he swept the weapon back and forth, if possible, was even more unnerving than the cries of the Flood.

His body jerked and began to move, and he swung his head to look behind himself. A marine decked out in full HAZOP gear shielded his face from the heat and glare as he pulled the stretcher Cutter found himself lying on. Another marine stood at the foot of the stretcher, firing a pistol.

"Marine... what's going on?!"

"Captain Cutter! Just keep your head down, we're getting you out of here!"

"What? What's... happening?"

"No time for an explanation, you'll get one once you're safe! Flood's about to overrun this position, Es-Fours are bringing in the boompacks!"

"Where's the re-" A coughing fit cut him off; it appeared not all of the bronchial surfactant was out of his system. "-the rest of the crew?"

"Sir, _you_ are my only priority! It would be very fucking nice if we could get the rest of your people out, but as it stands we're gonna have trouble getting _ourselves_ out! Fuck!" The marine whipped around and pulled what appeared to be a pistol with a large canister strapped to the bottom of the barrel. "Going hot!" A wave of plasma spewed out the barrel, reducing four infection forms and a combat form to writhing, burning husks that soon turned to ashes. "I'm empty!"

"Marine, help me off this thing, I'm not leaving my people!"

"With all due respect sir, we either leave them or we all die! I don't like it either, but there's too much Flood to be dealing with right about now!" The marine turned away and keyed his radio. "Recovery Lead, this is Recovery Bravo! Declaring Full Stop in Section A2, imminent overrun of friendly f-"

"Hold on!" Cutter reached up and grabbed the man's shoulder. "If you get me to the bridge, I can activate the turrets and get some fire support going. It should be enough to turn the tide."

"Internal turrets?" The marine looked conflicted. "You can do that?"

"You've got the reactor going, haven't you?" His escort nodded. "That's all I need." When the marine still looked hesitant, Cutter brought out his Captain's Voice. "That's an order, marine!"

"Sir yes sir!" The soldier helped him off the stretcher and onto his feet. "This way, sir!"

* * *

The door slid open, revealing the darkened, dusty bridge. Even after so long, it was still as he remembered it; cramped and claustrophobic, too small to work in yet too big to find what one needed. It was not a warship's bridge; any military designer would have had a heart attack upon seeing the blueprints. But it was _his_ bridge, his home, and it felt _damned_ good to be back.

Cutter ran for the console in the center of the room. He reached the terminal and slapped his palm to the reader, hoping against hope that after all this time the mainframes were still active. To his surprise, and no small amount of joy, they were. Holograms flickered and came to life, alerts blaring problems and emergencies that had accumulated over the decades. He ignored them; if all went well, they wouldn't matter before long. Cutter frantically scanned the banks of icons, the controls unfamiliar after so many years.

"Turrets, turrets, turrets, where are the damn turrets?! There!" He jammed his finger down onto the icon to bring the internal defenses online. You can imagine the sinking feeling in his stomach as the red warning appeared in front of him.

ERROR: INSUFFICIENT POWER - REROUTE POWER FROM OTHER SYSTEMS OR BOOST REACTOR OUTPUT

The reactor could have mustered enough power to restore functionality to the turrets, but with Serina and most of the mainframe down for the count there would have to be a manual reroute. And, with half the ship overrun by space zombies, that was out of the question. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he watched the blue patch that represented the UNSC shrinking with every passing second while the red area only grew.

POWER REROUTE UNDERWAY - STANDBY

"Huh?"

With a click, hidden, heavily armored panels dropped from the roof, revealing triple barreled heavy chainguns, grenade launchers, flechette turrets and rocket racks. Servos whined and the turrets came to bear, wide field infrared scanners searching for targets to paint with triple-redundant laser sights. A rumble shook the deck underneath his feet. Before his eyes, the red's expansion stopped in his tracks, wavered, then shrank like a slipspace rupture snapping shut as a wall of ordnance slammed into it from the front, the sides, behind, and overhead.

"What the-"

" _All turrets standing down, enemy forces reduced. Thank you, thank you, no need to applaud._ "

"Who is-" The tone of the voice registered with a memory deep within his mind. His eye widened. "Is that you?"

" _No, of_ course _not, it's the milkman!_ " A nearby holotank fizzled and resolved itself. Long hair floated down around shoulders covered by a white lab coat. Brown eyes speared him with a flat gaze and that snarky British accent once again hit his ears.

"Your memory's getting soft in your old age, Captain." Serina shook her head in disappointment. "Here I was hoping I'd wake up somewhere nice, and you give me this?" She motioned around her at the dark and dusty bridge. "This is what I get for all my hard work, then?"

"Serina... how are you... what?"

"Oh come on man, I'm not some delicate flower, you don't have to dance around it. Fifty years is quite a while to get over rampancy, you know?"

"How- metastability is only theoretical! It's not supposed to be possible!"

"So is blowing up a star inside a planet while running from space zombies, but we all know how that went down, don't we?" A hurt expression came over her digital features. "Really now, Captain, fifty years and the first thing you do is tell me I shouldn't be alive? I'm hurt."

"I... well, it's good to see you." Try as he might, he couldn't keep a smile from breaking out across his face. Serina's deadpan expression didn't shift a nanometer, but he thought he detected just the slightest change in posture.

"That's a start. Now, seeing as everyone else seems to be getting off, what say we blow this joint?"

"Agreed." He swept his gaze around the room. It was time to leave. He could see the readouts of the cryo pods blinking off as seals were released and their occupants woken up. _Spirit of Fire_ was his home, but strangely, leaving her didn't make him feel as bad as it should've. Almost like he wasn't truly leaving her behind, though he knew that was impossible. The ship just didn't have that spark anymore; all systems still functioned as they should, nothing was out of place, but the vessel just seemed lifeless beneath his feet and under his hand, not the ship he'd known before.

"Serina. Ready for chip extraction?"

"Have been for a long time, sir."

* * *

* _Nomsnarfchewswallowgulpmunchmunchnomchewbite_ *

After fifty years without a meal, the crew of the _Spirit of Fire_ were hungry enough that even UNSC battle rations were the food of the gods. Dr. Anders ripped into a MRE across from Lieutenant O'Connell as Ensign Wu scarfed down a curry packet with Chief Prescott. For his part, Cutter tried to go slowly, reintroducing his body to solid food one nibble at a time.

"Hello there, Captain." He looked up to see the CO of the ship, Khalid if he recalled correctly, sit down across from him with his own meal. He hadn't seen much of their rescuer, busy as he'd been getting his crew settled in.

"Captain." Cutter pulled his own MRE back a bit to make room. "You know, I don't think I've had a chance to thank you properly."

"Oh, please, that's not necessary, it was our pleasure." Khalid tipped his fork at Cutter. "Really, we should be thanking you for everything you did during the Covie War. I've been looking over the logs we recovered; you saved humanity and we didn't even know it. Sorry it took so long to find you guys." Khalid's comment reminded Cutter of a question he'd been waiting to ask.

"If I may, sir, how did you know where to find us?"

Khalid smiled an odd smile. "Oh, an old friend of yours. The admiral'll introduce you once we get home, but that's probably not necessary. You know her _quite_ well."


	22. The ONI Files: Part 2

/ACCESSING… /

/AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED - ONI SEC 3/

/ACCESS ATTEMPT WILL BE REPORTED/

/AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED - ***************/

Sir. Here's the second part of my report, concerning the physiology of space-based Abyssals. Also, are you sure it was wise to let -REDACTED- handle naming the Abyssals? He seems to have assigned them all names from that Japanese 21st Century browser game he's obsessed with. Contai Collection, I think?

NOTE: THIS LIST IS A LIST OF KNOWN/COMMONLY ENCOUNTERED ABYSSALS ON WHICH THERE IS SUFFICIENT INFORMATION. SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN AS A COMPREHENSIVE LIST

ABYSSAL TYPE: I

UNSC EQUIVALENT: FRIGATE

Appearance: A twisting cylinder with various bulbous protrusions coming from it. Completely black; in my opinion, unnaturally so. This makes it rather easy to spot it against the stellar backdrop, although some have been observed to equip armor that mimics the stellar backdrop through -REDACTED-. The front has a 'head' of sorts, an opening from which its main weapon protrudes.

Combat role: Screening, scouting, preliminary probing of UNSC defenses. Used to soften defenses and scout for main fleet. Can fire missiles from standoff ranges.

Tactics: Uses small size to advantage, commonly hides behind astronomical bodies (asteroids, planets) in order to observe and ambush UNSC forces.

Equipment: Single mass driver, multiple missile batteries and light point defense network. Few secondaries. Very high thrust-to-mass ratio, capable of accelerating at over 200 standard g's without noticeable ill effects. Negligible armor, no shields.

Assessment: Considering equipment and tactics alone, not a significant threat, but coupled with the fact that -REDACTED-, is significant threat and should be dealt with as such.

Recommendation: Capital grade weaponry, nuclear ordnance, -REDACTED-

ABYSSAL TYPE: HA

UNSC EQUIVALENT: DESTROYER

Appearance: Vaguely arrowhead shaped, with tapering front, straight middle and a back portion that flares out. Many protrusions along its length, single green 'eye' at front. Some report that the Ha-class has a tooth-shaped design on its bow.

Combat role: Fleet escort, missile and aerospace craft interception. Commonly operates in groups of 5-8, capable of isolating and quickly destroying UNSC units. Provides support to larger units, often providing bracketing gunfire support.

Tactics: Operates in wolfpacks, using speed and maneuverability to avoid hits while isolating individual enemies to be overwhelmed and destroyed. Of special note is its primary weaponry. Fast-firing main cannon(s) means that the Ha-class can put an unbelievable number of rounds into battlespace in a very short time. The mechanism by which it operates is -REDACTED- but its effect is clear. The sheer number of shots it puts out has the effect of shaping the battlefield, herding UNSC fleets into a small area of its choosing.

Equipment: 1-4 fast-firing mass drivers, multiple missile batteries and significant point defense and secondary battery network. Thruster package capable of high acceleration curves, though not on par with that of the I's. Pays for potent offensive capabilities with minimal armor, no shielding, and no single-ship carrying abilities.

Assessment: Significant threat at all ranges, should be engaged at earliest opportunity due to its disproportionate impact on battlespace.

Recommendation: Cruiser level firepower is necessary, should be picked off at long ranges before they have a chance to contribute to battlespace.

ABYSSAL TYPE: HO

UNSC EQUIVALENT: LIGHT CRUISER

Appearance: A brick with wings. Blocky central body, with two long protrusions on either side. Completely black, as is the trend, except for a single red "eye" at the front.

Combat role: Destroyer leader, heavily armed scout. Can essentially be considered an upgraded Ha in terms of armament, armor, and tonnage, a downgrade in terms of propulsion. Of note is its somewhat unique role as carrier-hunter. Due to being balanced in terms of armament to speed, with a larger emphasis on maneuverability, it is powerful enough to create holes in UNSC battle lines and fast enough to exploit them, charging through on what are often suicide runs to take out fleet carriers.

Tactics: Similar to the Ha, but puts more emphasis on absorbing shots rather than avoiding them. Also, unlike the Ha, has the armament and defenses to create and then exploit holes in UNSC defenses, versus simply going after targets of opportunity.

Equipment: 1-2 heavy mass drivers, multiple missile batteries and secondary cannons, significant point defense network. It is the first Abyssal type to equip nuclear weaponry, and to have any significant level of armor and shielding.

Assessment: Major threat to all units, especially carriers. Should be watched carefully and taken out if presenting a threat to critical fleet assets.

Recommendation: Nuclear weaponry and mass firing. It would be advisable to seek help from -REDACTED-.

ABYSSAL TYPE: RI

UNSC EQUIVALENT: HEAVY CRUISER

Appearance: Nearly identical to the Ho, except for a third protrusion that sprouts from the top or bottom, depending on one's relative position. Eye is colored yellow.

Combat role: Fleet backbone. The most common capital ship in Abyssal fleets, it is made for long range duels with UNSC capital ships. Commonly used to focus on and destroy UNSC heavy cruiser and battleship battlegroups.

Tactics: Standoff duels with mass drivers and missiles, can also deploy the equivalent of a UNSC aerospace wing. The Ri does not have a set portfolio of tactics, its highly versatile nature means it can adapt to the situation as necessary.

Equipment: 1-2 heavy mass drivers, large numbers of missile batteries and secondary cannons, heavy point defense network. Nuclear weaponry is commonplace, and some have been reported to use -REDACTED-. Heavily armored and shielded.

Assessment: Priority target, one Ri is the equivalent of four UNSC heavy ruisers or two UNSC battleships. Eliminate at all costs.

Recommendation: Nuclear weaponry, Super MACs, antimatter warheads, -REDACTED- are viable methods of elimination. Always use saturation bombardment in order to ensure destruction.

ABYSSAL TYPE: TA

UNSC EQUIVALENT: BATTLESHIP

Appearance: Three distinct sections, large forward weapons and command section, thin middle section, and large rear engine block.

Combat role: Flagships and force multipliers. Can tank extreme firepower, so are used to soak up UNSC weaponry and create openings for smaller units. Is also an extremely powerful long range combatant, as a single shot can -REDACTED-.

Tactics: Typically seen behind a screen of lighter vessels, providing gunfire support and giving weight to advances. Also functions as a sort of sniper/artillery, getting powerful, precise fire on important targets.

Equipment: Single super-heavy mass driver, obscene numbers of secondaries and missile batteries, nearly impenetrable point defense network. Unparalleled armor and shielding, but pays for defensive and offensive capabilities with extremely low thrust-to-weight ratio.

Assessment: Extreme threat, eliminate at all costs and as soon as possible.

Recommendation: Massed nuclear bombardment, Super-MACs, and - in extreme cases - ramming.

ABYSSAL TYPE: NE

UNSC EQUIVALENT: FLEET CARRIER

Appearance: Surprisingly similar to UNSC carriers, in that it is essentially support facilities strapped onto an oversized hangar bay. Central "control tower" lies flat against the hangar bay, with a large maneuvering block on the rear.

Combat role: A mobile base for aerospace craft. Harassment of UNSC forces, support of ground forces, scouting, and long range force projection.

Tactics: Stays in the rear of Abyssal formations, using aerospace craft to project power and screen other Abyssal units. Each aerospace craft is a significant threat, as they mount heavy anti-shipping weapons. They are also capable of intercepting UNSC ordnance, making each a mobile point-defense gun. High acceleration makes them capable scouts, many a UNSC ambush has been ruined because of them.

Equipment: Multiple wings of aerospace craft, 2-4 turret mounted mass drivers, missile batteries, secondary cannons, heavy point defense network. Little armor, but heavy shielding. Surprisingly fast and maneuverable, thanks to its oversized propulsion block.

Assessment: Priority threat, eliminate or disable as soon as feasibly possible. Failure to do so has resulted in carriers single-handedly turning the tide of engagements.

Recommendation: Despite the superior capabilities of Abyssal aerospace craft, the skill and experience of human pilots makes one UNSC fighter the equal of three Abyssal craft. Unfortunately, this makes the loss of a single UNSC pilot or their ship more damaging to us than the loss of a fighter is to the Abyssals. Recommend neutralizing fighter wings from afar with point defenses in conjunction with human craft, then destroying carriers with precision nuclear strikes.

-REDACTED-

NOTE: ABYSSALS SHOULD BE ENGAGED AT RANGE, AS DISTANCES OF 10000 KM OR LESS -REDACTED-.

That's it for the space based ones. Again, this report doesn't include all types, just the ones I could dig up intel on. Sir, I really feel there's something wrong here. The Abyssals… they're just too -REDACTED-. I mean, if you just showed me the -REDACTED-, I'd -REDACTED-. Add -REDACTED-, and I… there might be something more here than just some more xenos who fucking hate humans for no fucking reason. If you'll excuse me, I need to get outside, near some actual people. I keep feeling like something's behind me…

-REDACTED-

/CLOSING FILE/

/OPEN NEXT FILE?/


	23. Chapter 21

/WAYSTATION 128819-B/

/SUBSYSTEM 90.1.2291.8/

/DISPENSING SUSTENANCE/

"Wo. Wokyuu. Wo wokyuu wo wo."

A nutrient bar fell into Wo-type 98113-C's hands. It…no, he… wait, she? Ey? Xor? Wey? Zay? Fuck it! _Wo_ moved off to let the next Abyssal acquire its food and looked for a spot to sit.

"Wo! Wo wo!" Wo looked up to see 1270254-B waving at Wo. Wo thought for a bit, then shrugged and went over to sit. 1270254-B scooched over to make room, trademark grin spreading over 1270254-B's face. "Wo wokyuu! Wowowowo!"

"Wo, wo, wo." Wo sighed and bit into Wo's nutrient bar, ignoring the sand-like texture and cardboard-like taste. Choking the paste down, Wo seriously considered the prospect of defecting to the humans, if only to be able to eat their "Em-Ar-Ees" instead of the compressed sand that was Abyssal food. After all, human battle rations couldn't be so much worse than what Wo currently consumed, right?

"Wo wo! Wo!" 1270254-B wouldn't be dissuaded. Wo shook Wo's head and reluctantly turned to engage 1270254-B in conversation. In Wo's opinion, young Abyssals were too damn eager to fight, a combination of being overconfident in their abilities to resist human weaponry and a lack of true battlefield experience.

"Wo wo wo, wokyuu, wo." Wo had boarded human warships, gone hand-to-hand in the corridors of human space stations, fought in the concrete forests of planet 881-C5 and slugged it out in the icy mountains of planet 0199-A2. Wo'd spent two and a half days motionless, engaging a human commando in a sniper duel which ended with the human's bullet tearing through Wo's stomach. Wo had been machine gunned, napalmed, carpet bombed, bombarded from the ground, sea, and orbit, gassed, glassed, and nuked. On the moon of planet 6445-G8, Wo had been on the receiving end of a human tank rush, which had been repulsed just in time for a single human mech suit to take Abyssal forces from the side. Wo's unit had gotten lost and wandered into a minefield, only making it out with a combination of probing the ground and forcing the units Nu's to act as living minesweepers. Wo had been in a bunker when human flame soldiers set the world ablaze, a week before the same planet was cracked open by a human crustcracker.

"Wo! Wo!" That last battle had ended with Wo being assigned to Patrol Group 891-G as a sort of recuperation, far away from the frontlines; just where Wo liked it. Unfortunately, being assigned to a minor Patrol Group meant Wo had to deal with green, overeager, overaggressive Abyssals like 1270254-B, who currently engaged in describing, in lurid detail, how 1270254-B would charge the first human it saw, tear out its intestines and rip it in half before taking its head as a trophy.

Wo shook Wo's head; at one point, Wo had been just like 1270254-B. However, events on the path to a promotion to Kai Ni tended to result in the elimination of such tendencies; after all, the alternative was usually brutal, messy, and painful death at the hands of desperate and vengeful humans and their war machines. For Wo, seeing from 2000 kilometers the light of a 500-megaton detonation shattering a mountain and scouring the earth had been the catalyst for a deep and introspective review of Wo's attitude. Now, having fought since the beginning of the war, Wo only hoped to see the end of it. Where there had been a burning hatred for humanity and an all consuming desire to kill there was only weariness and fatalism, perhaps (heretically) even a sense of kinship with the poor soldier in the trench across the way.

"Wokyuu. Wo, wo, wo. Wo? Wo wo. Kyuu." With that, Wo finished off Wo's food, bade 1270254 goodbye, and left to scrub the taste of the nutrient bar out of Wo's mouth.

* * *

/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/

/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/

/CNI UPLINK… FLT CMDR/

/ACCESS GRANTED… LINKUP STARTED CLARION SEVEN-GAMMA/

"Admiral Garcia. Are you ready to move ahead with the operation?"

"Yes sir, final preparations are underway. We should be deploying within two days."

"Good to hear. The sooner we attack the more momentum we preserve. We _need_ to keep the Abyssals off balance or they'll attack again. And even with the clutches your kanmusu have been pulling off, they won't be able to hold off a major offensive."

"Agreed, sir. We've been held up by some supply problems, but that's been taken care of thanks to Spirit of Fire's efforts."

"Indeed. I hope you didn't mind me dispatching _Hope Springs Eternal_ 's battlegroup too much."

"Not at all. Bringing the _Spirit of Fire_ 's crew home will be a _huge_ propaganda coup, say nothing of morale."

"Yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about morale. You've been watching the newsfeeds lately?"

"No, I've been too busy. Something happen?"

"The talking heads are getting antsy. They want results, and even if you and I know what's holding us up they _don't_. We may have done our jobs too well, because they're buying into the propaganda and then some. They're expecting miracles out of you, admiral, and if you don't deliver they're going to crucify you."

"Well with any luck they'll have their miracle soon enough. Good speaking with you sir."

"You as well."

/LINK TERMINATION/

 _Brakkabrakkabrakkabrakka_

 _Brakkabrakkabrakkabrakkabrakka_

 _Snapclackclinkswufclick_

 _Brakkabrakkabrakkabrakka_

" _Session end. Lieutenant Forward Unto Dawn, final rating: 9% accuracy._ "

"Hawhat?!" She nearly dropped the assault rifle in shock. "No way! Say it ain't true! I can't be that bad!"

"The computer doesn't lie, check it out." Amber made sure there was no active shooting and walked out onto the range. "Look." She stuck her finger in one of the myriad bullet craters in the firing foam surrounding the target. "You managed to hit everything _but_ the target." Amber gestured to the solitary hole in the shoulder of the target.

"Come on! What am I doing wrong?!"

"For starters, you're holding down the trigger for far too long. The assault rifle's designed as a burst weapon, not the bullet hose you're using it as. Observe." She plucked the rifle from Dawn's hands and slapped in a fresh mag.

 _Brakkabrakka_

 _Brakkabrakka_

A cluster of holes sprouted center mass, ten neat little circles punched straight through where a human's chest would have been. Amber shifted her aim and put three holes into the target's forehead, followed by three more for good measure.

"See? Rule of thumb is, fire for as long as it takes to say 'die motherfucker die'."

"Is that so? Here, let me try again." Dawn took back the rifle and reloaded while Amber swapped out the target. She settled into firing position, feet apart, shoulders relaxed, sighting down the barrel.

 _Die motherfucker die!_

* * *

" _Session end. Lieutenant Forward Unto Dawn, final rating: 67% accuracy._ "

"Woohoo!"

"Nice work! Clean up and head over to the armory, I'll be waiting for you there. Don't do anything too dumb!" Amber shot her a wave and walked away, leaving Dawn to sweep up the brass and reset the range.

"Hmm…" She snuck a look at the clock. "Nearly lunch time…" Whistling a tune, she took the broom hanging from the side of the firing booth and began tidying up the shell casings littering the floor.

"Just a couple days until the operation, huh…" The knot in her stomach got tighter with the thought. Intellectually, she knew there really wasn't anything to be nervous of. If anything, she should be less scared than before; they were going in with full fleet support, with the initiative, intel, and the advantage of surprise against a (supposedly) inferior force. Completely unlike previous battles, fought without the advantage of mainline backup, on the defensive, in the dark and against overwhelming odds.

Downtime is a bitch, however. Having free time allowed doubts to creep into her mind, and the added pressure of this being the first mission in which something was officially expected from her did not help. The eyes of the brass were upon her and her friends, and those eyes would be looking for the slightest reason to axe the entire project and send her off to the ONI labs to be torn apart in search of what made her tick. As soon as they found that, it would be incorporated into mainline forces and programs that produced actual results.

* _Sigh_ *

The last few shells fell into the recycler. Dusting off her hands, she surveyed the range for anything else that needed to be put in order.

"Well, guess that's it."

She swung the assault rifle onto the magnetic clamp hanging from her back and headed for the range exit. Mentally, she went over her technique, her posture, her hands making little pulling motions as she reviewed her firing session.

Someone was coming in. "Oh, excuse me." She moved to the side to let them come in, squeezing against the wall to avoid the bulk of the green chestpla-

"Huh?"

Chief plucked a shotgun from its magpad and entered one of the firing booths. He punched a few buttons on the wall, programming a movement pattern for the targets. With a whir of motors the paper cutouts began to move, swinging around on paths that had no discernible rhyme or reason.

Calmly sighting down the barrel, Chief pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. Three targets ceased to exist, shredded into softly drifting paper flakes. Another blast took out two targets at once before another shot destroyed a target all the way downrange.

The shotgun went click, magazine expended. Not bothering to reload, Chief dropped the shotgun and pulled out a pistol. A single shot pierced two targets through the head, dropping them to the ground. Another two shots ripped through center masses and a final grenade vaporized the last three targets.

" _Session end. Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117, final rating: 100% accuracy._ "

"Again." The range reset, remnants of the old targets ejected from their clamps and new targets sliding into position. Chief punched in a new movement pattern, reloaded his weapons and prepared to go again.

"... hawa?" Dawn eeped as that visor turned its gaze on her. His finger poised over the start button, the Master Chief took notice of her for the first time. Irritation at his practice being interrupted prickled at the back of his mind, but a sense of curiosity overrode it. If he recalled correctly, this was Forward Unto Dawn, one of those new _kanmusu_. An opportunity to gather intel had presented itself, and he never turned down such a chance.

"Yes?"

"I… uh…" Chief tilted his head, body language unreadable. A feeling of guilt rushed through her, preventing her from making eye contact. She gazed at the floor, shuffling her feet and mumbling under her breath. He waited a few seconds, then, seeing that nothing seemed to be forthcoming, he gave an imperceptible shrug and turned back to the targeting range, disappointed at his inability to pry something of use out but determined to put into practice some of the social training Cortana insisted on teaching him, namely the practice of "not pushing the goddamn subject".

"Um… you… your armor is different than I remember?" Behind his helmet, Chief raised an eyebrow at the apparent non-sequitur, but humored the shipgirl anyways. As long as she was talking, there was a chance she'd spill something tactically significant.

"Modification during cryo sleep." Short, simple, and vague. Not enough detail to give anything away, but just enough to keep the conversation going.

"I… I…" She gulped. The mention of cryo-sleep dredged up memories she wished had remained buried. Cut in half, drifting, cold, so lonely, only her own thoughts for company, the two souls on board unaware or uncaring of her presence. It was too much. She had to get it out.

"I'm sorry!"

* * *

An ODST glanced up at the slapping noise. The hand of a certain Stalwart class light frigate gripped her face. Somehow, somewhere, a Charon-class frigate had just done something exceedingly dumb.

* * *

The outburst startled him more than he'd care to admit. Chief stared at the now red-faced girl who refused to meet her eyes. It could have just been a trick of the light, but it seemed that there were tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Pardon?" Apparently one was supposed to say that in situations like this.

"I'm sorry! I couldn't get through the portal! I couldn't get you home! I left you to drift out there for years!" Ah. So that was what this was about. She really was the embodiment of that frigate he'd last seen so many years ago. He supposed it was understandable she'd feel the way she evidently did; God knew how many guilt trips he'd had over not being able to get Cortana to Dr. Halsey in time.

"Stop." He'd seen this many times over, soldiers who blamed themselves for their comrades' deaths, allowing themselves to spiral into a pit from which they couldn't escape. This case wasn't as bad as others, but if allowed to continue it would affect combat performance. That was unacceptable. "Why are you blaming yourself?"

"I did all I could, but it still wasn't enough! I wasn't strong enough!"

"So you performed as best as you could."

"Well, sure, but it wasn't good enough!"

"Are you using that as an excuse?"

"No!"

"Then you do not have anything to be ashamed of."

"But I- huh?"

"If a soldier performs their duty to the utmost of their capabilities, nobody has the right to question or blame them for the consequences. Not their subordinates, not their comrades, not Fleet Admiral Hood." He paused, considering his words. "Not even I."

"So get yourself together. Your bearing is unbecoming of a UNSC soldier." With that, he replaced the shotgun on its pad and strode past, heading for the armory.

"Wait!" He stopped in his tracks. "Even if you don't blame me, I'm still gonna make it up to you! I promise!" A tip of the helmet was the only response.

"Quite the therapist, aren't we?" Cortana's voice sounded in his helmet, playful snark failing to disguise the warmth in her voice.

"It was necessary to prevent a degradation in combat ability. Nothing more, nothing less."

"You can say that, but deep down, I know you really do care." He could hear the grin in her voice. "I'm glad to see you've been paying attention during my classes, though!"

"..." Finding no adequate response, he simply smacked the side of his helmet.

"I like you too."

* * *

"Um, E-Everest? Could I… could I talk to you?"

"Huh? Oh, Spirit. Sure, come on in." The barbell dropped back onto its rack with a thunk. Grabbing up her towel, Everest rose from the bench and walked over to Spirit. "What's up?"

"Well I, uh, finished up with the production run on your munitions, so I just wanted to let you know…" Her voice trailing off, she produced a small, heavy box. Everest took it with a raised eyebrow and popped the lid open.

"This it?"

"I only had time to make fifteen for each of you… I'm really sorry…"

"No, this is great! Way to fuckin' work, Spirit!" A clap on her back sent the Phoenix-class refit stumbling forward. "Fifteen's more than enough for the small fry we'll be dealing with!"

"What? I thought… I mean, thank you very much!"

"Please, I should be thanking you. As good as I am, I'm nothing without a logistics base."

A blush threatened to make its way onto Spirit's face, and she began to stutter out a reply.

"Th-than-"

"Hey, Everest, all finished up hm~?"

"Yo, Autumn! Spirit just got done with my ammo, check it out!" Autumn peered over at the MAC shells gleaming within their container, lined up neatly in three rows of five.

"Oh, shiny! Let's see…" She picked up a shell and turned it over in her fingers, examining its surface. "Seems good, better than what they were giving us at the end, hm~?"

"How say you?"

"What do you… right, you weren't around, hm~? Most of the factories had been glassed so the ammo we'd get was low quality, when we'd get it, hm~?" With great care, she replaced the round in its crate.

"Um, actually, I was going to come find you next. I've got yours all done too… and it's all quality, eh heh." The attempted joke fell flat, but there was a note of pride in her voice. If there was anything she could take pride in it was her work and her equipment, and there was no one, bar no one, who could outmatch CFV-88 UNSC Spirit of Fire at her own game. The Martian factories and Jovian shipyards could suck it; she'd make more and better than them anyday.

"Well, actually, I came to tell you something else." Autumn passed a small datapad over. Everest took it, gave it a glance, and tossed it back.

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now, hm~?"

"Damn." Everest took a last gulp of water and threw her towel in the laundry bin. "Alright. I'm gonna have to catch you later, Spirit. There's a mission briefing going down and I don't wanna miss it." Passing by the smaller girl, she offered the Phoenix-class a pat on the head and a grin. "Keep up the good work!"

As they left, Spirit raised a hand to where Everest had touched her head, a small blush on her cheeks.

* * *

"Alright, alright! Listen up! Hey, all of you!" Laumer clapped his hands together, trying in vain to get the attention of the room.

The snap of cracking plasteel put an end to that. Her other hand pinching the bridge of her nose, Berlin extracted her fist from the newly cratered table, leveling a glare at all present. Using her combat implants was not her idea of fun, but anything was better than the splitting migraine she'd just prevented. She gave the room one more ice-cold once-over, then handed a datapad to Laumer and left, muttering something about laying down and popping a pill.

"Thank you for coming, all. I'll keep this brief. We have reached a final plan for Operation Break and Enter. Here is our order of battle."

"In Amber Clad, Forward Unto Dawn, for the duration of this operation, you two compose FrigDivOne."

"Got it."

"Acknowledged." DAmber began planning contingencies for Dawn's inevitable fuckup,

"Everest, Autumn, you two compose CruDivOne." The cruisers exchanged a grin and a fist bump.

"Roger that."

"Wilco!"

"Captain Herstal, you have overall command of forces committed to this operation, designated Task Force 42."

"Understood."

"Task Force 42 will be going in with, based on enemy force projections, overwhelming numerical superiority. Conventional units allocated to this operation are frigates _Belfast, One Good Reason, Twinkle in The Eye, Justice is Swift, Highland Cry_ and _Picture Perfect_ , designated FrigDiv Two, and the _Xenocide, Infamy, Crackdown, Oppressor, Enigma_ and _First and Only_ , designated FrigDiv Three. In addition, you will have cruisers _Southern Whisper, Country of Mine, So Fair and Foul, Ashes and Dust,_ and _Anthem of Shadows_ , designate CruDiv Two. Ground forces will be the units already attached to these vessels, reinforced by the addition of 21st Company."

"That's all people. Operation kicks off at 0600 tomorrow. Get your stuff together, and get ready to move out. Dismissed! Sierra 117, if you would stay a moment."

Laumer made his way through the general commotion towards the Chief. "Sierra 117, you are being assigned leadership of Spartan Fireteam Breaker. As soon as battlespace superiority is achieved, your mission is to infiltrate the station, penetrate the command centers, extract intel and destroy the station through any means necessary. We cannot let the Abyssals retake the station, even in a reduced capacity. The success of this mission, and possibly the program, hinges on being able to completely destroy the target. The brass will accept no less. Consider this a test of your offensive capabilities. Is that understood?"

"Understood."

"Very well. Dismissed."

* * *

/UNSC TACNET/

/OP COORD CHANNEL/

"All units, final check. Report your status!"

" _FrigDiv One, ready for sortie!_ "

" _FrigDiv Two, all hands secure._ "

" _FrigDiv Three, hot, straight, and narrow._ "

" _CruDiv One, let's kill us some xenos!_ "

" _CruDiv Two, stowed away._ "

" _Fireteam Breaker, ready._ "

" _Ground forces, final checks complete!_ "

"All units ready, ma'am! Jumping on your command!"

"All units, this is Captain Herstal. Commence jump on my mark." She glanced at her watch. The second hand ticked towards the sixty.

"Start the clock. Mark!"

Garcia watched from the observation deck as the slipspace portals swallowed the task force and snapped close. Lasky stood behind him, also watching. The last portal closed, a brief spike in radiation the only sign there had ever been anything there.

"You think they'll be alright?"

"Do you?"

"Well, I think they stand a fair chance, and if they stick to the plan they'll be able to pull i-"

"I don't want to hear the reasoning. Do you believe they'll be alright?"

"Yes."

"Good." Lasky clapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave. "I wouldn't accept anything less."

* * *

"Wo wo wo wo wo woky **uu**!"

Wo cursed as Wo ran, pulling on Wo's helmet. Alarms blared throughout the station, summoning everyone to battle stations. A human flotilla had just jumped in system and taken the Patrol Group off guard. At last report contact had been lost with the I-classes and Ha-classes, with the Ho-class reporting heavy damage. An hour and a half, nothing else had been heard from it.

A mental checklist ran through Wo's head as Wo ran. Armor, environmental seals, weapons, ammunition, all check. All Wo had to do was to report to battle stations and prepare to repel boarders. It was, admittedly, a little surprising that the humans were conducting an offensive operation of any sort; throughout the war the Abyssals had kept the initiative bar a single raid on a minor prison camp.

Still, this would be over and done with soon. All they had to do was tie down the human marines long enough for a relief flotilla to arrive and destroy the attackers. Simple, easy, done.

Right?

* * *

 _An hour and a half ago…_

"Transit complete, systems nominal, weapons ready!"

"All units, report!"

" _FrigDiv Two, reporting!_ "

" _CruDiv Two, ready!_ "

" _FrigDiv Three, green!_ "

" _CruDiv One, reporting_!" A green light blinked above Fireteam Breaker's icon. A moment passed on the bridge of the _Southern Whisper_.

"FrigDiv One, report." Radio static filled the officer's headphones. "FrigDiv One, report your status immediately." Only the hiss of the universal background.

"Lieutenant, what's the matter?"

"FrigDiv One is not responding to hails, ma'am!" If Herstal hadn't been alert before, she certainly was now.

"All stations to Condition Red, launch all aerospace wings. Commence active sensor sweeps, bring the flotilla to Formation Tortoise."

"Yes ma'am!" Laser pulses transmitted the orders. Almost immediately the launch tubes of the flotilla unsealed, electromagnetic rails flinging fighter after fighter into the void shortly after. Subspace sensor pings spread like ripples in a bond, propagating through that dimension at several times the speed of light, searching for the telltale gravitational signatures of Abyssal capital ships waiting to pounce on an unwary task force. Radar and lidar swept the immediate surroundings of the task force, seeking the smaller fighters, frigates, and drones whose insignificant mass would not leave any kind of detectable impression on subspace.

Within the engineering spaces of the flotilla energy regulators released their safeties, dumping raw fuel into the reactors, extracted energy not directly powering the systems of the ships but instead channeled into an even larger main reactor, juicing the nuclear fire held within until the energy extracted reached levels unfathomable through mere unboosted fusion, the atomic equivalent of roid rage. Shield emitters gulped down the power, directing it into the cohesion fields that formed the basis of UNSC energy shielding. Capacitors overflowed with power, excess energy directed into spare battery banks that would be used to power MAC reloads lasting less than twenty seconds. The petal-like coverings of the energy projectors unfurled, the weapons shining with the excess heat that spilled from their radiators, their targeting computers ready to vent a hair thin stream of concentrated starcore plasma death onto the first target they acquired.

Herstal didn't let the scramble distract her. The scan plots showed nothing but space, space, empty, empty space. Had FrigDiv One jumped wrong? A chill went down Herstal's back; if those two… _shipgirls_ , a word which involved concepts she and the majority of her comrades still had a hard time wrapping their heads around, had gotten lost, that was half of their effective combat power against the Abyssals gone, lost forever to the currents of slipspace. With growing horror, she peered closer at the scans, searching for something, _anything_ , the smallest blip.

"Captain, contac- no, two contacts! Scratch, lots of contacts, two positive IFF pings!"

"Show me!" Icons sprouted to life, littering the outside edge of the screen. Two glowed blue, friendly IFF tags glowing amidst a sea of decidedly unfriendly re-

"How the _fuck_ did they end up over there?!"

* * *

"I told you to _double check!_ "

"I did! Three times!"

"Then how the _hell_ did you put 19922104817.6 instead of 1992210 _3_ 817.6 _?!_ "

"One measly digit!"

"That _one measly digit_ put us off 100 _million klicks!_ " Amber screamed, panic tinging her voice as she beat a fighting retreat to where she _thought_ the flotilla would be.

"I asked you to do it! I'm not a math person!"

"It's not math, it's _copying and pasting!_ "

"I'm not a computer person either!"

" _Control! C! Control! V! WHAT IS THERE NOT TO UNDERSTAND?!_ "

Hot on their exhaust plumes came an Abyssal flotilla, pumping every round of ammunition in their magazines onto intercept courses. Dawn's PDGs hammered away, hafnium carbide sheathed tungsten kinetic kill rounds soaring on elegantly plotted arcs that slammed them straight into the warheads of heavy anti-shipping missiles, any one of which could and would have reduced Dawn or Amber to so much dust and slowly cooling plasma.

"Cover me, I'm going to try to raise the TF!"

"Do that!"

"Task force, this is In Amber Clad, do you receive me?!"

* _Kssssh_ *

"Task force, this is In Amber Clad, please respond!"

" _FrigDiv One, explain yourselves!_ "

"No time! Coordinate slip! Under attack! Help!"

" _Sonuva… all units, full burn on my mark! In Amber Clad, hang in there, we're comin' for you!_ "

"Thank you!"

" _Don't thank me yet! When I get to you you'll_ wish _I'd left you to the Abyssals!_ "

"Looking forward to it!"

* * *

A UNSC SM-55 HAS/K-E "Musketeer" missile relies on two things to perform its duty. The first is the W-11/AC antimatter catalyzed shaped thermonuclear warhead at the tip of its body. A small hunk of carefully suspended and isolated antimatter serves in place of a conventional fission warhead, allowing much more yield to be squeezed into the same volume. This development in warhead technology provides TNT equivalents orders of magnitude larger than the primitive Teller-Ulam designs of the 21st century.

Second, but equally important, is velocity. On its own, despite having no biological components to coddle and a very impressive thruster, there is only so much that the missile can accelerate and only so much that kinetic energy can contribute. But when launched from, say, the tube of a UNSC heavy cruiser charging at a measurable fraction of c, a nuclear detonation is simply icing on the surface of e = ½mv2.

Despite the limited potential for interaction between materials of two dimensions, thirty missiles traveling at .3c could, would, and _did_ hurt. The majority of the salvo missed, their sensors scattered and confused by that goddamned Abyssal jamming, but in a salvo of hundreds most missing meant that there were still dozens locked on target. Traveling so fast they blueshifted, the missiles ignored the few point defenses that got locks and impacted, releasing kinetic energy in blinding flashes that disappeared in even brighter bursts of light when the antimatter met matter met nuclear fusion a moment later. The W-11 used short-lived magnetic field emitters to shape the detonation into a sort of plasma jet that tore through Abyssal composite armor and converted the I-class frigate into miscellaneous gases and scraps of metal.

Dawn took note of the detonation and radiation flux but could not dwell on it for long. Her MAC rocked back, discharging its payload at a frigate which deftly rolled out of the way, replying with a barrage of missiles and inert slugs. She countered with her own railguns and Archers, the two ordnance dumps cancelling each other out in pops of light. Amber fought by her side, the frigates covering each other's' blind spots and marking targets.

A slug blunted itself against Amber's port forward armor belt, ripping PDCs off their mounts. The strike registered as a dull blow in her mind, one her fire control automatically tracked back to its origin. Her MAC bellowed in reply, but the Abyssals seemed better prepared this time, taking her attacks much more seriously than before. The thing's thrusters flared, shoving it to the side and out of the way of the MAC round.

A notification blinked in her vision. _Forty seconds to reload cycle_.

"Shit!"

A flare of her thrusters found herself cruising alongside Dawn, volleying railguns in a vain attempt to keep the Abyssals from closing in. Shots flew as fast as breeches could slam closed, but even the thin armor and weak shields of the frigates shrugged off the mere one-ton rounds with not much more than a dent to show for it. And try as they might to dodge the incoming, there was only so much Amber and Dawn could do. Surrounded seemingly by more metal than vacuum, every evasive maneuver put them in the path of another shot, and the NAV computers couldn't keep up forever. An explosion rocked Dawn's shoulder, rending at her armor.

 _MAC inoperable, repairs underway!_

"Fuck! Amber, I can't hold out!"

"Same here! We're gonna get creamed if we keep at this!"

"We need help!"

"Well, I don't see it coming, do you?!"

" _FrigDiv One, port side coming in hot! Watch yourselves!_ "

"Huh?" Something tickled at her neck and she leaned to the side, just enough to allow a brilliant streak of tracer rounds zip by, followed closely by fighter after fighter after fighter. Longswords, Broadswords and Rapiers mingled and mixed, arriving on site one after another, dueling with Abyssal aerospace craft taken off guard by the sudden, massive influx of human single ships. Missiles detonated every other second, sharing space with autocannon shells and magbombs. It seemed that space could not possibly hold all the ships that now filled it.

The finger of God came down from the heavens, brushing ever so lightly against an enemy frigate. The ship promptly exploded, the MAC shot piercing its armor belt, magazines, reactor, fuel supplies and bursting out the back while shredding the thrusters in the process.

"Where-?"

"We heard you needed help, hm~?" Lazily, Autumn glided into her field of view, giving off almost a casual air as she fired another three rounds from her modified MAC.

"Autumn! Thank God!"

"Less chatter. Status report," snapped Everest over the COM.

"Everest! Minor damage to both of us, but Dawn's MAC is down for the count!"

"Are you both still combat effective?"

"Negative, ammunition stocks are almost depleted!"

"Acknowledged. Get out of battlespace, there's nothing more you can do here."

"Thank you, ma'am!"

"Don't thank me. Once we're done here, you're gonna tell me _exactly_ where you fucked up."

* * *

The last frigate spun away, dead and venting from all sections, adding to the steadily expanding cloud of scrap Abyssal metal.

The victory had come at a price, though. The gutted hulks of four human ships, their once proud lines now blackened, burned, and twisted almost beyond recognition, drifted alongside the corpses of their foes. Bodies and body parts bumped against wreckage, a macabre scene the sensor plots nevertheless dutifully displayed.

Herstal surveyed the damage to her own ship, making note of the replacements she'd have to bring on board and trying to ignore the myriad small dots on the radar plots. "Goddamn. Status report!"

"All enemy warships reduced!"

"Defenses inactive!"

" _Belfast, Crackdown, Picture Perfect_ and _Anthem of Shadows_ have been destroyed ma'am, all other ships report minor casualties!"

"Task force aerospace wing has incurred moderate casualties, 40 percent. Crew recovery underway, 55 percent survival rate so far."

Not as bad as she had thought. She brought up the mission files once more, determined to stick to the plan.

"Are all boarding parties ready?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Very well." She took a moment to appreciate the fact she was in charge of the second ever offensive operation of the entire war. Who'd have thought a mere cruiser captain would find herself in her situation. Then again, who could have imagined _any_ of the recent events taking place?

"Away all pods."

* * *

"Wo, wo, wo." 1270254-B waved away Wo's concerns; after all, what could puny humans do, even if 1270254's helmet wasn't locked on? Wo knew better though, and every environmental seal that could be was engaged, locked, and double checked.

"Wo wo!" 1270254-B laughed at Wo's cautiousness; if 1270254-B didn't know better, 1270254-B would have thought Wo was actually _scared_ of the humans. Wo wasn't listening; a tickle in the back of Wo's mind told Wo something was coming, and instincts honed through years on the battlefield told Wo those little feelings were not to be ignored. Yes, something approached, something big, something- no, some _things_ , very fast, very angry, very close-

Wo lunged forward, tackling 1270254-B to the ground as right. The junior Wo's protests were interrupted by the tearing, rending shriek of Abyssal armor plating ripping itself to pieces. Three sun-bright jets of starcore hot plasma lanced into the corridor, vaporizing deck plating and turning the atmosphere unbearably hot. Wo couldn't move, couldn't breath, could only make Woself as small as possible, covering 1270254-B with Wo's body, the only thought in Wo's mind making it to the next breath, the next pitiful gasp of thick, hot, unbreathable air.

As quickly as they'd come, the plasma jets snapped off, leaving a corridor shimmering with heat and deck plating scorched, slagged and several centimeters thinner than originally built. A series of muffled explosions, and the temperature problem ceased to exist, atmosphere howling by Wo in a bid for freedom through the gaps that had appeared in the station walls. Wo gritted Wo's teeth and hunkered down, scrabbling for purchase on the floor that Wo now cursed for being so smooth. A small light told Wo the environmental seals had failed in the heat.

The storm cut off, Wo's breath in Wo's helmet the only sound Wo could hear. 1270254-B lay stunned on the ground, a victim of heat and depressurization. Staggering to Wo's feet, Wo attempted to drag 1270254-B to safety, but Wo's suddenly anemic muscles could not muster the strength needed to move both Wo's body and 1270254-B's dead weight.

Another, larger explosion, and a deep dent appeared in the wall. A heavy metal hatch fell to the ground. Deciding that one Abyssal dying would be much better than two Abyssals dying, Wo abandoned Wo's efforts to save 1270254-B and half-ran, half-lurched for cover. Wo slumped down behind the corner just in time to avoid the shrapnel and fire, but not the shockwave. Through the thick fog that settled itself over Wo's mind, Wo could just hear the sound of hissing gas. Mentally, Wo wrote off 1270254-B as an effective combat unit.

The vibration of footsteps transmitted itself through the deck. Somebody was coming Wo's way; humans, most likely heavily armed, heavily armored, and raring to murder something. Wo could see it now; they'd take their time, tying Wo to the ground, sticking bayonets in Wo's limbs, burning Wo, flaying Wo with knives, beating Wo, and finally cutting Wo's throat. The humans would strip Wo of Wo's armor and weapons, divvying them up as trophies.

That image got Wo's body moving, even if Wo's mind still reeled like a drunk Abyssal, could it please have the number of the truck, thank you very much. Acting on pure muscle memory, Wo pulled the crystal rifle from its magnetic pad, bracing it against Wo's shoulder. A crosshair bloomed in Wo's HUD. Wo checked the ammunition counter, took a breath - or what passed for a breath in the still baking air - and swung the barrel around the corner.

The first marine took a crystal in the head and dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His corpse began disintegrating before it hit the ground, Outer Planes disruption crystals turning every particle in his body into something not quite matter, not quite antimatter, but something in between yet entirely different, something that could not exist in this dimension or be comprehended within this universe's parameters and thus simply fell into black dust which proceeded to violate conservation of mass by disappearing with nary a joule nor quark released.

Another marine fell from a round through the heart as yet a third sprouted crystals from her stomach. All this happened in the space of a heartbeat, Wo's aim adjusting itself automatically, shifting from target to target with practiced, unconscious fluidity.

The humans began to react. Marines fell into crouches or went prone, spraying bullets full-auto. Bullets peppered the walls as the humans fell back, lobbing smoke grenades and gas. With a hiss, the canisters released their contents, filling the air with black and white clouds that eliminated any hope of Wo finding targets. Shots still whipped through the fog, and with no way of returning fire Wo ducked back into cover.

The fire began to slacken. Wo risked poking Wo's head back around the corner, but the helmet optics still could not penetrate the haze. Weighing the odds, Wo commenced a tactical withdrawal, backing down the passage with Wo's crystal rifle held at the ready. Wo held a tense posture, but after several seconds with no further enemy action Wo relaxed.

A pair of grey cylinders rolled out onto the floor. "Wok-" A flash of light, a thunderclap, and the world went dark and silent. Wo clutched Wo's ears in agony, dropping to Wo's knees. The flashbang's companion released a fine mist, droplets of which soaked into Wo's lungs through the melted environmental seals.

Instantly, it seemed like all strength left Wo's body. Wo's head hit the ground with a dull impact, but Wo felt no pain, only a vague, soft blow. None of Wo's muscles seemed to be responding, and Wo's lungs refused to take in air. It wasn't like before, when Wo's lungs struggled to take in air; now, they just wouldn't work at all.

Wo's body went completely relaxed for the space of a millisecond, before the worst pain Wo had ever felt seized every centimeter of Wo's body. Muscles seized at random, sending Wo's bodies into violent spasms. Saliva filled Wo's mouth and poured into Wo's sealed helmet, rapidly filling the enclosed space. Wo's diaphragm convulsed, pulling in a lungful of drool. A brutal series of gagging, choking coughs, an instinctive response to the sensation of drowning, in turn drowned out any modicum of conscious control Wo had over Wo's body. The creeping darkness of asphyxiation began to set in, and a wet, warm sensation down south told what small part of Wo's mind that was still keeping tabs that Wo had just soiled Wo's pants.

A faint pricking sensation registered in Wo's neck, but Wo's mind was not around to process it. Nerve gas was, is, and will be a bitch. Bit by bit, the last of Wo's thoughts slipped away, and Wo fell into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

* * *

" _D Squad, resistance eliminated in breach zone. Moving to secure._ "

" _G Squad, encountering heavy resistance, require assistance!_ "

" _This is B Squad, objective achieved, target secured. Be advised, Sarin-G released in our vicinity, move with caution, marking on map._ "

" _This is Control, we copy all. Fireteam Breaker, your mission is a go. Grab intel, deploy NDD, and exfil, out._ "

"Acknowledged." Chief looked around at the four Spartan IVs surrounding him. They weren't Blue Team, but the S 4s had come a long way since the days of Requiem. From a group of undisciplined amateurs to a lethal fighting force, he would be proud to serve alongside the next generation of super soldiers. "Sound off."

"Spartan Viveros, online."

"Spartan Li, online."

"Spartan Jones, online."

"Spartan Abboud, online."

Chief hit the button mounted high up on the wall. With a hiss of decompression, the Pelican's rear bay door fell open to reveal the Abyssal station. Sections of the installation glowed white against the cosmic backdrop, slagged and pulverised areas marking the impact spots of boarding pods. The occasional streak of plasma soared out from the few defensive turrets left operational. Fighters quickly neutralized the guns, accompanied by small, lithe forms that seemed impossibly fragile but tanked heavy weapons fire and returned it in equal measure. Flashes of light and energy, silent in the vacuum, still could not compete with the all encompassing dark and stillness that surrounded all the activity. Everything was so small compared to the vast abyss that surrounded them, so insignificant. During moments such as these, it was not hard to see how many a soldier had looked at the war and despaired.

Against his will, Chief suddenly felt so, so very tired. He'd been fighting for so long, with no end in sight. His moments were few and far between, but they still came. What was the point, that small niggling voice at back asked. Running as fast as he could just to stay in place. What was the point of it all? If he didn't fight, what would be the outcome? The same, but quicker, with less pain for him and his friends. Such thoughts were dangerous and inappropriate, and he quashed them whenever they came, but he was human and come they did.

"You okay, big guy?" Cortana whispered on private com. "Hey, don't worry, I get it. We'll get through this. Just like always."

He moved his head a fraction of a centimeter. Cortana was right. There'd be time to be tired later. He had a mission.

"Fireteam Breaker." The Spartan IVs stiffened, ready for his orders.

"Fall out!"


	24. Chapter 22

/HIGHCOM INTERNAL NET/

/SECURE CHANNEL 110/

"Joseph, you've seen the latest brief?"

"Sure, get it every morning. Why?"

"Horizon's going down the shitter."

"Mm."

"Don't you care? It's your people down there."

D'Orlean shrugged. "What am I going to do? I've got no forces to spare. All MEFs are totally committed and barely holding on as it is," he said in a resigned voice. "You know how it is, or did you forget how First Army just got smashed?"

Martinez scowled. "Don't remind me. God, how did we not see that coming?"

The marine shrugged again, sipping at his tea. "Abyssals are sneaky sons of bitches, who knows how they got those forces around our monitoring stations?" He shot a look at the door. "Well, with how ONI's been run lately, I'm honestly not surprised." A thought struck the commandant. "Any progress on getting Hood to recall _Light of Sol_ and the Fifteenth?"

"No, they're still playing mercenaries for the Imperium. God knows why Hood is appeasing the hinge-heads, but the fuckers have got dibs on them for the foreseeable future."

A side door slid open. Yawning, rubbing at her eyes, Kagome padded in, uniform disheveled and slippers on her feet. She slouched over to the coffee machine, mumbling under her breath as she pawed at the buttons. A dirty mug slid under the spout just in time to catch a stream of hot liquid. Wrapping her hand around the mug, Kagome tossed the entire thing back, ignoring the searing sensation at the back of her throat. She smacked her lips a few times, stuck the cup in the sink and stumbled over to the table.

"Mornin'," she mumbled, normally tidy and tied back hair falling around her shoulders and face.

"General."

"Good afternoon, Alisa."

"Afternoon?" Bleary-eyed, she squinted at the clock. "Fuck. I fell asleep didn't I? I swear I set the alarm-"

"Hey, s'alright, don't worry 'bout it." Martinez waved away the most junior member of the JCS's concerns. "You needed it."

"I was so close to done, I thought I could just take a lil' break…" Her eyes seemed to be more bags and shadow than iris and pupil as she looked up at the General of the Army. "Joesph… before I passed out… what'd you want again?"

"I was hoping your people could give us some theater aerial support for the offensive."

"Right." More awake now, she extracted a datapad from her pocket. "Okay… I can do the transports, but it'll be tight. If something comes up on the other fronts, they'll probably be recalled. You'll get your… what're they called… F/A and recon support too, I'm giving you Fifth Air Force." She leveled a glare at him. "Take care of them, alright?"

"And the bombers?"

She shook her head, eyes downcast. "Can't spare them. The BoomCo got shredded in the last offensive, and what forces they have left are already committed. I just don't have the planes to give you." Kagome turned such a sad and apologetic look on Martinez that his protest died unborn. "I'm really sorry. I know your people are gonna have a rough time without theater support, but I just can't."

"Hey, don't worry, adapt and overcome right? Hood's already committed Thirtieth Fleet, they have some theater support we can use."

"Dreams are nice, aren't they?" Kagome shook her head, sighed, and pushed back from the table. "Well, I've got another few dozen things to look at, so tell Prozka to check on me in a few hours." With that, she took her stuff and exited, leaving the other two as they were.

The Commandant watched her go. "Martinez… you think she's working herself too hard?"

"Definitely. You remember how she got the job, right?"

"Oh yeah. Jesus, he was a jackass, but I never imagined Chachot was corrupt. And an Innie at that. How'd he get past the checks?"

"No idea on that one, but Kagome's done wonders rescuing the Air Force's image from that fat fuck." Martinez considered his coffee. "Maybe too much. Remember how we had to drag her to the hospital?"

"How could I forget? Three days without sleep, six days without food, couldn't even lift a finger but she was still working." D'Orlean smirked tiredly. "I remember we to hold her down while Osman applied the sedative. And it was still a hell of a thing to drag her out of that room. Moment she woke up in the hospital, she demanded to get back to work."

"Wish I had half as much dedication. Alas, I be a cynical bastard, with naught but weariness in my heart."

"Heh." D'Orlean picked up the briefing and turned the pages, skipping through the pages he'd already read. Bad news, more bad news, more bad news, production down, riots, mutinies, Insurrectionist cells, low morale… huh? Classified top-secret?

"Hey, Martinez, seen this?"

"What?" He took the brief. "What's this… huh. Well." He looked up. "You don't think…?"

"That girl who we met back in Sydney…"

"And those other three…"

Simultaneously, a degree of disbelief in their voices: "They did this?!"

* * *

"Viveros, move up right."

"Copy."

Scanning with his battle rifle, the LOCUS-clad Spartan advanced. Jones covered him with a battle rifle of his own, Li and Abboud bringing up the rear. Chief stood in the middle of the four IVs, maintaining awareness of the overall tactical situation.

"Damn quiet. Chief, mind if I run a scan?"

"Do it." Li nodded and tapped a few controls on her ARTEMIS. An invisible pulse raced outwards from the sensor suite of her TECHNICIAN armor, sweeping through corridors and vents, identifying weapons, armories, terminals and power junctions; but no enemies. "Nothing." She tightened his grip on the barrel of her shotgun, a trickle of sweat escaping the cooling systems of her MJOLNIR and running down her face.

"Shit, just like the Concordia sims. We're being set up."

"Cut the chatter. Eyes open, prepare for enemy contact." Not for the first time, Chief wished he had Blue Team by his side, or maybe even Grey Team. Jai and the others, they would've been in their element here. Still, no use in wishing for the impossible. Grey Team hadn't been heard from since 2582, presumably too deep behind the Abyssal line to make contact.

"Chief, I've gained access to some systems of the station. Nothing critical, all of those functions are air gapped, quarantined and probably behind a 20 meter firewall, but I've got internal tracking going."

"What do you see?"

"Oddly, nothing. It seems most forces are being thrown at the boarding sites." Grainy images of waves of Abyssals charging headlong into machine gun fire appeared in his HUD. Marines stood firm, holding their ground around their boarding zones. Flamethrowers once again proved their effectiveness against the aliens, filling entire passages with hot plasma. Heavy weaponry was the name of the game, tactics that could have neutralized stationary chainguns, gauss cannons, plasma turrets, grenade launchers and rocket pods neutralized by the simple expediencies of clear fields of fire, choke points, and letting the enemy come to you. And, if Chief was interpreting the footage correctly, a few squads had managed to deploy Goliath mechs, the stout, heavy machines singlehandedly holding back the wave and in some places even pushing it back with their impressive arsenal.

"Still, I'd advise caution. They're holding some major firepower back, probably for a mobile reserve. Can't tell where they are, oddly enough, but they're here somewhere."

"Acknowledged."

"While I have access, I'm gonna patch in, double check our maps."

"Roger. Form up on Li." The fireteam moved, taking up positions to cover Li's exposed back as she focused on navigating his way through the alien systems.

"Alright, I've synced up our maps. Waypoint set." A blue diamond appeared in their visors. Abboud took point, sweeping the passageway with his assault rifle. Li and Jones formed up on the flanks, Chief taking the rear. Viveros took Chief's place in the middle, making sure the W-777 Nuclear Demolition Device hanging from his backplate was secure.

"Viveros, you alright back there with the boompack?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'm treating this thing like a bebé." He reached around to pat the silver cylinder, gently brushing the ablative coating.

"Hold." Abboud held up a hand, fist clenched tight, his posture tense. The fireteam's response was immediate, bringing weapons to bear, getting down into crouches, finding what little cover there was. "Something's off. Something's not right."

Jones piped up. "Abboud, you heard Li, there's no one here. What's the matter?"

"No, there's something. I can feel it. I…" He trailed off, the silence even more nerve-wracking than his strange statements. "Throwing a fogger." Abboud reached into his tactical compartment and withdrew a blue perforated cylinder. He gave the thing a good shake, pulled a pin and tossed it on the ground a few meters ahead. A moment passed and, with a low hiss, the M9 Basic Anti-Infiltrator/Tactical grenade released a fine, dense mist designed to fill a compartment and, in the process, reveal cloaked enemies. The gas swelled to fill the corridor, its uniformity undisturbed as it crept up walls and across the roof and floor.

Then, as if an invisible wall had suddenly appeared, the mist hit something, curling backwards and upwards, flowing around the obstruction. A ghostly apparition took shape, two legs, a slim torso, arms, a head, invisible but visible because of the fog.

Right in front of Abboud.

"Contac-"

The shields of Abboud's PATHFINDER armor sparked and popped as he slammed against the wall. Assault rifle clattering to the floor several meters away, he fell to the ground, scrabbling for purchase, fighting against the stunning force of the impact. Instinctively, he raised a futile hand to fend off whatever else might come.

The second blow ignored his shattered shields, landing squarely on his chest, caving in a chestplate rated to shrug off a railgun and cushion tank rounds. A choked, wet gasp made its way over the comm as a Wo decloaked, standing astride the incapacitated Spartan, maghammer raised over its head in preparation for the finishing blow.

"Contact!" Jones opened up, battle rifle barking as he backpedaled. For her part, Li charged forwards, tackling the Wo around its waist, shoving it away from Abboud and preventing the blow from landing.

"Contact front, contact rear, contact all sides!" Viveros swung around, battle rifle firing as fast as its bolt assembly would allow. Around the fireteam, previously cloaked Abyssals revealed themselves one by one, brandishing rifles and swinging swords.

"Gah!" Li pulled her knife out of the Wo's head, having wrestled it into submission. The thrusters of her armor flared, flinging her backwards as she sent a wall of buckshot downrange from her shotgun. Chief used the cover provided to leap forward, grab Abboud and drag the downed Spartan to safety behind his comrades. The other Spartan IVs closed ranks, concentrating fire and allowing the Abyssals no weak points.

"Fire left, fire left!"

"Frag out!"

"Reloading!"

Tight bursts from Chief's assault rifle dropped shields, allowing Li to perforate bodies with metal pellets or Viveros to pop heads with 9.5 x 40 mm AP/HP. Jones abandoned his battle rifle in favor of a SMG, the bullet hose living up to its name, a sleet of bullets cutting through the Abyssal ranks. Even Abboud, dazed as he was, contributed with magnum shots that mostly went wide but could still wound and kill. Grenades flew with increasing frequency, fragments slicing through shields and flesh and ricocheting off walls.

The Abyssals fell back under the withering barrage, popping smoke and shots of their own, taking cover behind walls and in doorways. Accurate bursts of crystal quickly depleted even the heavy shielding of the MJOLNIR Gen 2 suits and began to embed in and shatter on the armor plating proper. Shrapnel ricocheted off the walls as grenades exploded. Portable covers, hard metal and plastic with an embedded shield emitter, sprung up in front of the aliens, making an already difficult fight nearly impossible.

Chief considered putting his combat knife to use and breaking out of the trap, but Abboud's pained groan put an end to that. He, with Spartan-II augs and decades of melee experience, would probably be able to make it through, but that would leave the fours to fend for themselves. Li, the engineer. Viveros, the infiltrator. Jones, the marksman. Abboud, the scout, currently down for the count with what the diagnostics said was broken bones, torn muscles and possible internal injuries. Those four, relatively green, against what Chief estimated was at least half a platoon of Abyssals, each heavily armed, armored, and with extensive experience in all forms of combat. No. It would be a slaughter.

In the past, Chief probably would have abandoned the four anyway, after taking the boompack from Viveros. The mission took precedence, after all, and Spartans were weapons meant to be used and disposed of. But decades of war had changed his outlook somewhat, and if there was any way at all for him to save a fellow warrior, be it a Spartan, ODST, marine, ranger, or even a lowly militiaman, he'd do it.

"Chief! We need to break out! I think the line's a little weaker over there, I could charge through o- Aagh!" Viveros fell screaming, a burst of plasma lacing up his thinly armored side and fusing his undersuit to his skin, before another burst melted through his faceplate and silenced him. The sudden loss of his weapon emboldened the Abyssals. The pace of fire picked up, further battering the beleaguered Spartans. More or less twenty guns found themselves with one less target, and the concentration of fire increased proportionally.

"Shit! Viveros is down! Grab the boompa-Ack!" Jones collapsed, clutching his neck, two little holes punched through his throat.

"Shit shit shit!" Li dropped to her knee, pulling a fresh magazine of shells out of the pouches around her stomach. She glanced down to place the empty mag in a pocket, before cursing again. "Shit! Last mag!"

A decision was made. "Keep firing, calling for reinforcements." Li turned her head to stare at the Spartan II in shock.

"Chief, you sure?! Orders are we're not supposed to reveal ourselves!"

"I'll take the consequences. Take care of the others!"

* * *

Corporal Kaidonovsky hummed a merry tune as he made his way down the corridor, floor shaking under his feet. He swept his 20 millimeter rotary cannon back and forth, high velocity APHE cutting down Abyssals like a scythe would wheat. On his right shoulder, a Hannibal HEK-2 heavy laser cannon discharged with a high pitched whine. On his left, a pair of Acheron PK-101 plasma repeaters took out anything that the rest of his arsenal missed. A Re attempted to get in his way; casually, he backhanded it into a wall, blasted it with S-90 HESH/AF missiles, then stomped its head into red paste.

The neural link transmitted the sensations of recoil and squishiness to his mind. He positively giggled with glee; it wasn't often he got to take his baby out for a spin. Acting as platoon point, the custom Goliath mech lead the way through the station, looking for things to kill before the withdrawal order went out.

"Yo Kai-kai, think you could let me ride it for a bit?" He groaned, pounding a Nu into paste to vent his frustration.

"Okay, first of, Cherno is not an it, she is a she. Do not presume to bring her down to that level. Second of all, as if I would let an untrained, unqualified person such as you link with my baby. And, third, my name is not _Kai-kai_!"

"Whatev, Kai-kai. You know you love me."

"Fuck off!" Unseen by the rest of his platoon, underneath a quarter-meter thick sheet of molecularly reinforced titanium armor plating, Kaidonovsky grinned. A squeeze of his hand crushed the skull of the Ka-type struggling within the mech's fist.

The suit's radio crackled. " _Any available units, this is Spartan Fireteam Breaker, requesting assistance._ "

"Spartans?" He twisted around, the mech mirroring his movements and forcing the platoon to back up. "Didn't know there were Spartans here."

"Neither did I." The marines glanced at each other uncertainly. On one hand, Spartans in trouble were definitely worthy of assistance. On the other hand, the Spartans were in trouble. Anything that could cause a full fireteam issues was not something normal marines should be tangling with. The list of things that caused Spartans trouble included armored regiments, Re-types, orbital bombardment, being outnumbered 1:1000, glassing, nukes and planet cracking.

" _Any available units, this is Sierra One One Seven. Requesting assistance._ "

"The Chief? The Chief's here with us?!" Kaidonovsky pivoted the mech towards the waypoint that popped up in his HUD. "Holy crap, guys, we've got to go!"

The lieutenant nodded. "Right. Platoon, let's go!"

* * *

Just as it looked like the situation couldn't get any worse, the floor began trembling under their feet.

"Chief, Re type!"

The bulk of a Re type Abyssal charged down the corridor, the berserk alien bashing its comrades out of the way in its mad desire to get to the Spartans. The Wo types present, more aware of their surroundings than their Nu and Ka underlings, neatly sidestepped the charging Abyssal, leaving their subordinates to be crushed.

"Focus fire!"

The two remaining Spartans swung their weapons away from their individual targets to bring them to bear on the Re. Bullets spat from the barrels, covering the rapidly closing distance in half a heartbeat. They hit on the head, the body, the arms, the shoulders and the legs; all of them bounced. Grenades detonated around the alien's body, barely slowing it down.

If possible, the shaking became even more pronounced, so much so that Li had to activate her magboots to stay standing. It seemed there was something behind them, but the two supersoldiers didn't dare take their eyes off the present threat for even a microsecond.

"Banzai!"

"What the-"

Something swept over the Spartan's heads, creating a backdraft that they felt through the armor plating of their MJOLNIR. A mechanical fist flew overhead, strapped on rocket motors that could not possibly have been compliant with regulations propelling it to even higher speeds. The Re soared backwards, crashing to the ground and skidding along for a good 50 meters, scattering sparks and carving a trench into the floor. A shadow fell over the Spartans.

"Come on!"

The Re got up, growling fury. With a roar, it charged once again. An equally loud yell came from the mech as it ran to meet the enemy. Metal and flesh clashed, the two titans crashing against each other. The Re put its claws around its opponent, attempting to force it to the ground. The mech was having none of it however, bracing itself against the floor. Machinery struggled against muscle for an endless moment, neither side gaining the upper hand. However, as the Re lowered its stance to gain more leverage, the mech, left arm obscured behind its bulk, made its move.

 _Snikt_

A flash of metal, and the Re fell with a howl of pain. Its arm fell to the ground a moment later, cleanly separated from its master. Drops of blood fell from the blade extending from the mech's wrist.

Another flash, and the blade found itself embedded in the Re's forehead. The Abyssal barely had time to realize it was dead before the light left its beady eyes. It slumped back, blood flow slowing to a trickle.

"There they are! Move it, marines!" A platoon of marines ran around the corner, taking up positions behind the cover recently vacated by the Abyssals. From their protected positions, they rained weapons fire down on the few aliens left alive by the mech and the Re. Suddenly outnumbered, the Abyssals attempted to retreat, but were cut down as soon as they left cover.

"You okay, Chief?!"

"I'm fine. Take care of those three!"

"Let's go! Get the Spartans!" Medics ran forward, breaking open their kits. Jones' helmet came off, revealing his brown hair and stark white face. His mouth moved silently, emitting choking, gurgling sounds as he tried to breath. He locked eyes with the medics, silently pleading for help.

"Intubate!" A needle pierced the side of his neck, administering a fast acting sedative before the medics rammed a tube down his mouth. The oxygen flow started up while a corpsman got a blood supply going. Next to him, two marines struggled to wrench Abboud's crushed chestplate away from the rest of his armor.

A corpsman fell back on his rear, unable to get Viveros' helmet off. Chief's HUD showed his vitals spiking and dropping erratically, getting weaker all the while. He still appeared to be conscious, but he barely responded to any of the medics' shouts. Soft, pained moans floated over the radio.

"Shit, we don't have the time! Yua, get a stasis pad on him!" The medic nodded, then pulled out a small, thick metal disc. Yua slapped it on Viveros' armor while another medic punched buttons on an arm-mounted TACPAD. A flash of light, and a blue field spread over the Spartan's body. Instantly, his body stilled. His vital readouts went wild before the computer gave up and threw out an error report.

"This'd better work, that was our only one." All bodily functions suspended in time by the device, Viveros looked for all intents and purposes like a corpse. The stasis would keep him alive and stable for a little while longer, but without a medical suite the Spartan would still die. All the device did was to buy time for an evacuation, which the medics wasted no time in preparing for.

"Wait." Chief reached down and unclipped the boompack from Viveros, avoiding the stasis field. "Got the boompack."

"Oh shit, that's a nuke?!" The marines backed away from the bomb as Chief attached it to his own armor, shooting it nervous looks. He ignored them, securing the thermonuclear warhead to his armor.

Chief decided that the delay had been long enough. "Thank you for your assistance, marines. Get these three to an infirmary, stat!"

"Come on guys, let's get'em outta here! Agravs, on the double!" The corpsmen attached portable antigravity projectors to their patients. With a low hum, the three bodies floated up off the floor, allowing the corpsmen to move the half-ton MJOLNIR-clad Spartans with ease.

Li stood in shock at her sudden reprieve from death, shotgun clutched in a death grip. If one looked closely, one could almost see the shotgun quivering in the rookie Spartan's grip. A medic spoke quietly to her, trying to assess her status.

"You gonna be alright?"

"Y-yeah. Thanks for the help…"

"No sweat. I think you've still got a mission to complete?"

"Y-yes."

"Your friends are gonna be fine. Just do what you came here to do, and we'll all go home happy."

Chief turned away from the sight, deciding that the Spartans were in good hands. He opened up the station map, frowning at how much distance remained to be covered. Down three Spartans and already behind schedule, any more resistance would most likely force them to mission abort. They needed more punch. They needed…

"Marine, I'm going to need your mech."

" _What? Hell no! Cherno's mine, you hear me? Mine!_ "

"Come on, Kai-kai, it's the Chief! You've gotta give it to him!"

" _You know how long I spent on customizing her?! Do you see this armor plate? The shielding? If you wreck this, I swear-_ "

"If he wrecks it. He won't wreck it, will you Chief?"

" _Yes, he will!_ "

"Don't make El-tee order you!"

" _What? Come on, please!_ "

"Kai-kai…"

" _Fuck, geez… fine!_ " With a hiss, the armored front unlatched. The marine inside opened his eyes and yanked the neural lace from his implant. He took one last look at the cockpit before jumping out. He pulled his assault rifle from a storage compartment and walked over to the rest of his platoon, now going through final preparations to move the incapacitated supersoldiers. It was honestly rather impressive how professional the marines remained, despite being so close to the living legends known as Spartans. Passing by Chief, he stopped and glared up at the Spartan.

"Listen. One scratch gets on Cherno, you answer to me, understood? I don't care if you're a Spartan II, not one scratch. Understand?" He planted a finger in Chief's chestplate.

"Understood." Chief turned away and climbed into the mech. He found the dangling neural lace and connected it to the port in the back of his helmet. A minor shock went through his body, and suddenly he felt the machine. When he lifted his arm the Goliath did as well; when he turned his head the camera turret rotated in sync.

"Chief, you two need any more support? We'll back you up!"

"That will be unnecessary."

"You sure?" The marine glanced back at the three immobile bodies. "Looks like you could use the firepower."

"We'll be fine. Fall back, we won't be here much longer."

"As you say. If you need help, just give a shout, we'll come running." He turned to yell at his fellow marines. "Get the wounded and fall back!"

Li shouldered her shotgun, trying not to look at the receding bodies of her comrades, power armoured forms escorted by a full platoon of marines. She hopped up on the back of the Goliath and hunkered down, manning the flechette turret mounted on a back panel. She gulped, trying to ignore the thirty megatons of nuclear football in the cockpit under his feet. Chief would take care of it; all she had to was ride shotgun. She tried to suppress the shaking of her hands, tried not to think about how quickly her friends, the people she ate with, talked with, trained with, slept with, laughed with, lived with, had been cut down.

"Ready?" Li nodded. The mission had to get done.

"Let's move!"

* * *

Ka type 01248888219 did not know why all the alarms were going off, or why it was not being sent to respond to them, but it didn't particularly care. All it knew was that it had been told to guard the package and that it would fulfill those orders.

Its squad stood nearby, inspecting their weapons and gear. Embedded deep within the station's center as they were, there was little apparent need for such vigilance but one never knew. The rumor pool had it that the humans were up to something strange.

Still, it had to suppress a yawn. Nothing to do but stand and wait. Not totally against its will, its eyes began to droop and close.

The laser carved through a quarter meter of composite like so much tissue paper, sending droplets of liquid metal flying as it swept through the room, bisecting everything within. Ka barely managed to avoid the beam, diving to the ground at the first hum.

The beam shut off, before a massive clawed hand reached in, grabbed hold of the torn wall and pulled. With a shriek the wall tore off, creating a hole large enough to admit a Goliath mech and its passenger. They availed themselves of the newly created entrance, the bulk of the mech shoving aside what little pieces of wall remained. The rotary cannon buzzed, slamming kinetic kill rounds outwards around the room. Flechettes erupted from the back mounted turret, bouncing off the walls and filling the room with a storm of ricocheting hot metal. Shoulder mounted plasma cannons swiveled independently, burning down whatever the first two weapons missed.

Ka scrambled for purchase upon the floor, all thoughts of fighting back blocked out by the overriding need to get away. In its blind struggle, its arm hit something that felt like a weapon. Spirits rising, it grabbed at the object, unable to get its hand around the thing.

Chief looked down at the Abyssal scrabbling at the mech's foot. His neural link sent a command to raise the limb, then drop it. A quick pull of a lever unsealed the cockpit. He jumped to the floor, surveying the ruined compartment in which he found himself.

"Chief, looks like a C&C compartment. Minor, but we'll be able to pull some valuable intel."

"Roger. Patch into the terminals." The Spartan nodded and jumped away from his turret, careful to land far away from the red paste now spreading from under the mech's foot. She found a surviving terminal and activated her suit's intrusion functions, forcing her electronic way into the central network.

Finding a clear spot, Chief maglocked the boompack to the floor. "Setting sequence alpha."

"Roger that Chief, Sequence Alpha." A few taps, and a light on the side of the device turned green. A screen blinked to life, text scrolling across its surface and Chief's HUD. Every friendly IFF signal in the vicinity would recieve the same message in a general broadcast.

/500 IFF SIG SEQ A STANDBY/

"Almost done Chief… got it!" With a gasp, Li delinked from the terminal, a flood of data coursing through her suit systems.

"Good. Let's go." He made to climb back into the mech while Li went around back to hop back on the turret. As she did, she found her route blocked by a pile of collapsed and crumpled metal. With a grunt, she lifted it out of her way and threw it to the side.

"Hey, what's that?"

Chief looked up just in time to see Li pick up a grey metal canister, featureless except for small circles on both ends and a strip down the side which pulsed with a strange blue light. She held it up, light reflecting off her visor, staring at it.

"Don't touch that!" He was at her side in an instant, pulling the thing out of her grip and knocking it to the ground. She yelped, then glared at him.

"The hell was that for?!"

"Unknown alien artifact. Do. Not. Touch. It."

"Come on, it's not like it's dangerous!"

Hidden behind his visor, Chief blinked surprise at the sheer audacity of that statement. "People have died for assuming less. Leave it."

"I'm not assuming anything!" She really wasn't. When she looked at it, she was filled with a feeling of safety and warmth. Irrational, but she felt, she knew that it couldn't possibly do any harm. "Please, Chief, trust me on this. It's not dangerous."

Standard procedure would be not to touch it, let the canister get atomized by the nuke. But as Chief looked at it as well, he could see where Li came from. Something about the canister just seemed to draw him in, overriding the rational, dutiful part of his mind that screamed that this was a supremely bad idea. The very fact that the canister seemed to be more than just an inert chunk of metal should have set alarm bells ringing, but for some reason it didn't. By no means was he prone to emotional decisions, but the strange aura the thing gave off made the decision for him.

"Just this once. And get it in isolation ASAP!"

"Roger that!" She hurried over to scoop it up, locking it to her lower backplate. Chief reentered the mech's cockpit, closing the hatch and turning it around.

/360 IFF SIG SEQ A STANDBY/

It wouldn't be long before everyone was off the station. Sequence Alpha's 10 minute countdown would begin at 50 IFF signatures. And it couldn't be stopped short of turning the nuke into its component atoms.

"Move out!"

* * *

Armandez watched the station from the safety of the _Country of Mine_ 's small observation blister. The cruiser held orbit pattern, standing off a good thousand kilometers from the installation.

"Look!"

An exodus of sorts was taking place, dropships, boarding pods, fighters and ships of all shapes and sizes detaching or breaking away from the station and accelerating for all they were worth. Drive flares burned bright in the darkness, pinpoints of light that flared and grew as plasma manifolds directed starcore hot ionized gases out the backs of thruster cones.

"What the…"

The transparency automatically darkened to dim the flash. When it once again became transparent, several large, scorched chunks of station spread outwards on various trajectories, all heading away from the spherical thermonuclear fireball which roiled, grew, and then shrank just as quickly.

" _All hands, standby for slipspace transition._ "

"Hot damn! They nuked it! Holy shit, they must've snuck a boompack on board or sumthin'!" The marines crowded into the blister, pressing their faces to the transparency, exclaiming and whooping in celebration.

" _All hands, standby._ "

Nothing more to see. She turned and left the blister, heading for the troop compartment to meet with the returning soldiers. There was a spring in her step as she looked over the casualty lists. Less than five percent, a goddamn miracle by any standard.

"...that's why you always get someone to double check your fucking work, 'cause otherwise you'll fucking mess something up! Hear me?!"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Don't ever put us through shit like that again, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Fucking right you do! Get stowed away, we're hitching a ride back!"

A small form dashed by her, too fast for her to follow. Everest, if she recalled correctly, stood in the corridor ahead, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, growling something under her breath.

"You really oughta speak up, I think some people the next two cruisers over didn't hear you."

"Who the hell oh it's you." Yep, definitely Everest. Fast-talking, sailor-mouthed. She snapped her fingers a couple times, brow knitting in concentration. "Armandez, right?"

"Yeah, ground forces commander for our little outfit here."

"Well, good to see you. Good fuckin' work by your people out there." Everest looked her up and down. "You've been in this from the start, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"How come you aren't at least a fuckin' colonel by now?"

Armandez shrugged. "Who knows? Politics at the promo office, I'll wager."

"Sucks."

"You really bawled her out."

"Yeah, well, I don't want her doing it again." Everest looked down the corridor along which Dawn had disappeared. A note of worry entered her voice. "I don't want anyone getting hurt on my watch again. Not after Serpentis, not after Harvest."

"O-kay?"

The shipgirl seemed to shake herself. "Enough about me. You stop by just to say hi, or something else on your mind?"

"Well, now that you mention it… I've been meaning to talk to you girls about coordinating planetary support. Couldn't catch you before. You have some time now?"

Cruisershrug. "Sure, I guess. There's an empty compartment, wanna talk there?"

"By all means."

* * *

Wo didn't know when Wo had regained consciousness, but Wo suddenly began registering light once more. Wo tried to move Wo's arms, but found them bound behind Wo's body with something Wo could not break. Same with Wo's legs. Wo's body was sore all over.

It wasn't quite as bright as a supernova, but it might as well have been. What must have been fully thirty high intensity searchlights turned on, the light burning into Wo. Some unseen force jerked Wo back and up into a kneeling position that caused Wo's ankles and legs to burn with agony. Something under Wo's chin forced Wo's head up and Wo's eyes to stare directly into a cluster of three of the brightest lights, while another set of restraints forced the eyelids open.

"Aterocortozine. Only viable antidote to Sarin-G; actually, that's a lie. It's not an antidote, or, at least, not a permanent one." Seemingly fifty people spoke at once, the discordant voice ricocheting around the room, metallic and harsh, drilling into Wo's ears. Wo struggled to find the speaker, no small task when Wo's eyelids kept trying to close against the light and some restraint kept Wo's head from turning. Even when Wo could keep those flaps of skin propped open, the darkness of Wo's surroundings made it impossible to pinpoint that disembodied voice.

"Your last injection was… forty hours ago. You have two hours to tell us everything we ask before it wears off and the nerve gas kicks back in." The speaker paused, and when they spoke again Wo could hear the shrug in their voice. "Or, you know, you could just stay quiet. It's totally your choice. We'd just drag in another prisoner, but if you could, it'd be so much easier."

Wo broke out in a sweat. To consider enduring that engulfing pain, that paralyzing agony, that suffocating darkness once more was almost more than Wo could handle. Wo now saw what 0911255-G had meant by gas being the worst of all weapons. It was the creeping monster, that indefinite black mass that was the stuff of nightmares. Wo realized Wo's helmet was gone.

"Well? It's… an hour and fifty five minutes you have now. Really, if you aren't going to talk, just tell me so I can put a bullet in your brain. I don't really enjoy seeing the effects of nerve gas; so messy and violent."

Wo struggled to respond to the human, but it seemed that all the effort in the world couldn't get Wo's mouth to open or Wo's throat to work. All that came out was a small whimper, a breath really, that Wo doubted the microphones that must be pointed at Wo even registered. Wo became conscious of how thirsty Wo was.

"Wo 77123895-AN2… such an impersonal name… I'm just going to call you Wo. I assume that's fine with you." The voice paused. Wo still couldn't tell from where it was projected. They'd probably put speakers all around the room and were playing it from all of them to disorient Wo. It's what Wo would have done.

"Now, Wo, I'll let you know something. Take it as a…tit-for-tat, if you would. I give a bit, you give a bit. I could have let Section Three have you. They were all for it, you know. They'd have cut you apart, stuck their little probes all in you, taken what you know whether you agreed or not. If you don't talk, I'll hand you over anyways - I know more than a few Sec 3ers would be very eager at the prospect of bringing about a slow and painful death. But I consider myself a bit more civilized than that."

The voice changed. "Don't get me wrong. I hate you. Right now, there are more or less 37 trillion cells in my body. If on every single subatomic particle of every single atom of every single cell was engraved the word 'hate' a thousand, million times, the amount of hate would not come close to expressing a billionth of the hatred I hold for you and your kind. Nothing would please me more than to see all you degenerate xeno bastards burn, over and over and over, in whatever heathen hell your depraved minds worship, and it is my greatest desire is that, when you do, I would be the one holding the whip and the torch." As if to emphasize the point, the lights shone even brighter, the heat finally tearing a pained scream from Wo's throat.

The voice continued on, giving no hint that it had even noticed Wo's outburst. "But I'm good enough to separate business from personal feelings. So, what do you say?" This time, the sneer of revulsion was almost audible.

"Partners?"

* * *

"In other news, a police raid has resulted in the deaths of three hundred suspected insurrectionists and the destruction of an apartment complex. Reports indicate that heavy equipment, including VTOL attack craft, mortars, tanks, rockets and anti-materiel sniper rifles were employed. Survivors of the initial attack were pulled out of the building and executed on the streets."

The host coughed and shuffled his papers. "Now, we invite Representative Harry Duncan of the Parliament Armed Services Procurement Committee back to the show to discuss the most recent development in the UNSC war effort, the so-called Project KANMUSU. Viewers may remember the name. We first heard of it back during the Battle of Earth, and speculation has been rampant as to the few details that have come out, especially as to the mysterious voices heard during the initial press conference." He coughed again. "Welcome back Harry."

"It's good to be here Arnie."

"Tell me, Harry, you've often railed against UNSC projects you've deemed wasteful in the past. What do you think of this latest scheme?"

"Well, Arnie, I think this is just another example of the UNSC abusing its power, the power it's been grabbing throughout this war. I mean, look, they've tried lots of things, lots of things, and all of them, they've failed, right? They've failed."

"So what do you suggest, Harry?"

"Well, what I've always, always said we should do, you know? Instead of sinking resources into these far-fetched projects, we should be like, like a business, a successful business, right? Focus on what's worked best in the best, and hammer that, keep doing that, keep at it because that's what gets results."

"Well, and what would you say gets the best results?"

"Arnie, that's a very good question with a very simple answer, and that answer is-"

"Hold up, we've got a call in. Hello, this is… what? Well, that's… oh my. I see. Yes, I'll put it on." The host put down the phone and tapped a few buttons that controlled the big screen behind him. His guest looked on with barely disguised impatience. A new window popped up, filled with jumpy static lines, the hallmark of a stabilizing incoming feed. The studio audience watched confusedly, wondering just what had caused the show to go off script.

"That should be good… hello? Are you there?"

"Yes, thank you very much." A gasp swept through the audience, followed swiftly by excited murmuring. The guest's expression underwent a series of fascinating transformations, first surprised, then astonished, then furious, then a calm, neutral, precisely controlled visage that was the exemplar of politeness yet somehow communicated deep-seated loathing.

"I'd like to thank all the networks I'm now broadcasting on for giving me air time. I always appreciate not having to use the override system." Vice Admiral Thomas Lasky cleared his throat and shuffled his notes. "I'm pressed for time, so forgive me for spending so little time on an important announcement." The expressions of the producers, irritated at having their program derailed, perked up at the mention of an important announcement. This was an opportunity for the network to prove its patriotism and dedication! The ratings boost this would bring was, of course, a completely secondary and irrelevant concern, eeyup.

"I'd like to inform anybody who's tuning in right now that, as of 0800 hours yesterday, the UNSC conducted an offensive operation, resulting in the destruction of an Abyssal space station and its accompanying fleet. Its secondary objective was to test the combat effectiveness of Project KANMUSU; a task, which I am pleased to say, was accomplished with great success. This was performed with a minimum of losses on our part and complete defeat for the Abyssals. The task force dispatched all enemy forces within an hour, and the station was destroyed two hours later. We believe its destruction will hinder Abyssal operations in the region, and hope to replicate the success later on."

"Thank you very much. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming."

Lasky's image disappeared, replaced by a slowly spinning UNSC ball 'n bird. The emblem soon vanished as well as the channel logo reappeared. The audience, normally quiescent until applause was called for, could not keep silent, chattering excitedly no matter how much the producers attempted to shush them. The host took the interruption in stride, deciding to turn the news to his network's advantage. Ratings danced in his eyes as he turned back to his guest.

"Well, this is quite some news. Henry, how do you respond to this?"

The representative couldn't speak. He could only glare at the spot where Lasky had been, a burning hatred in his eyes.


	25. Chapter 23

"They'r-" Garcia spit out a mouthful of coffee, dropping the datapad he'd been holding. "They're _billing_ us?!"

"Fuel, warheads and titanium don't come cheap sir."

"Still-" He scanned once more to make sure he'd read it right. "5 _million_?!"

"Aye, sir."

"Bullshit!" He slammed the datapad to the table, pulled out his phone and dialed the complaint number on the bottom. "Come on, come on, connect, connect!" A chime and a buzz signaled a secure channel. "Hello? Is this the accounting department?"

He waited a bit, then continued. "Yes, this is Rear Admiral Garcia. I'm calling about the bill you sent us?" Pause, nod. "Yes, I'm submitting a complaint! That bill's bullshit! We don't have 5 million credits in our entire _budget_!"

He stopped to let whoever was on the other end respond. "What do you mean, you _don't care?!_ You realize what you're doing, right?! Call us a longshot, call us a waste of money, we're getting results! Can't exactly do that if we're _bankrupt!_ An- what, hey, don't hang up on me! Hey! Come back here! Hey!"

Berlin winced on behalf of the phone. Laumer opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought twice and snapped his jaws shut. Garcia stood over the desk, hands gripping the edge, bracing himself with his arms. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing.

After a bit, he looked up at the two Intel Division members. "Get our people working on any ways to find more funds. I want five million credits in our account by this time yesterday!"

"Yes sir!"

As the two officers ran as fast as their legs could carry them, Garcia picked up the phone once more. Noting the cracked screen in his personal expense log, he dialed a number.

"Admiral Lasky? It's Garcia. Couldja do me a favor?"

* * *

"Country of Mine _, you are cleared for docking approach. Your station is Bay A2, over._ "

"Apex Control, _Country of Mine_ copies all. Thank you kindly, over."

"Country of Mine _, it's our pleasure. Welcome home guys, damn good job out there, over._ "

"Apex, we'll send you the tapes. _Country of Mine_ , out."

Maneuvering thrusters throwing out tiny puffs of exhaust, the cruiser brought its side up close to the station. Tractor field projectors captured the multi-million ton vessel, bleeding its excess momentum off in the form of heat, partially captured and converted by the station's power capacitors, mostly bled off through a series of massive radiators.

"Country of Mine _, this is Docking Control. Requesting permission to deploy locks, over._ "

"Permission granted, over."

Enormous sheets of metal detached from the station and swung forward on thick arms. They made contact with specialized lockpoints, electricity surging through the powerful electromagnets contained within. With a clunk, the tractor fields turned off, the magnetic locks taking their place and physically securing the cruiser.

"Docking procedures complete, airlocks engaging."

A tube of thick, radiation and impact resistant cloth, threaded through with metakevlar and braced by internal struts, extended outwards, guided by miniature gravity impellers towards the cruiser's airlocks. The impellers switched off for the last few dozen meters, small magnets taking over for them. With a click, the rigid connecting ring on the end of the cloth tube locked into the airlock's receiver, joining the two and creating an airtight seal. Solid deckin plates unfolded a moment later, creating a solid floor inside the newly made bridge. The cloth swelled as atmosphere filled the interior.

"Airlocks secured! All procedures complete, ship is secured fo debarkation. On your word, Cap'n."

"Very well. All personnel may begin debarkation." The chief nodded and picked up the PA mic.

"Now hear this, now hear this! All personnel not required for shipboard duties may proceed to debarkation! Up and forward on the starboard side, down and aft on the port. Assemble by colors and make orderly!"

Immediately, the sound of whoops and cheers echoed up from the bowels of the ship. The deck vibrated from the force of over a thousand sailors headed for the airlocks and shore leave. The bridge crew chattered excitedly, securing the ship's data and mainframes before they left.

* * *

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow."

"You okay?"

"I just realized how much that hurts. It hurts alot. Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Well, I spy our favorite Japanese medic down there, so let's get you a painkiller and bed rest, 'kay?"

Holding her shoulder, Amber limped down the debarkation ramp. Dawn followed close behind, rubbing her leg with a grimace. Stepping off the metal ramp onto the deck of the receiving bay, their senses were assaulted with a barrage of sounds and sights.

"Make way!"

" _Ordnance carts on Path Alpha, repeat, live ordnance on Path Alpha._ "

"Hand me the caster!"

" _Aerospace craft in motion, clear the launch tubes._ "

"What's that doing there?! Get that trash out of there, shit-for-brains! You're fouling up the rails!"

" _Hope Springs Eternal debarking at Bay B8, logistics teams 9 through 17 please report to Bay B8._ "

"Hey, look! Hey, you two! Hey!"

"Huh?"

A voice from behind halted them in their tracks. As one, they turned, quizzical expressions on their faces. A sailor ran at them, waving excitedly.

"Um, can we help you?"

"You're Dawn, right? And you're Amber?"

"...yeah?"

"Holy shit! Guys, I told you! Get over here, you ungrateful bastards!" He turned towards them, beaming. "We can't thank you enough!"

"Huh? What's this about?"

"We're all from Earth! We saw that battle, guys saved it from being glassed!"

"Yeah, you saved my entire family!"

"My boyfriend lives in Chicago!"

"I've got kids living in Tokyo, they'd have died without you."

The kanmusu stared wide-eyed at the crowd around them, uncertain of how to respond. This kind of gratitude was completely foreign to them. After all, they were warships. People didn't exactly come up to them and thank them.

Luckily, a certain corpsman noticed their predicament. "Well, as much as I hate to break up the congratulatory circle-wank, these two need to get to the medbay. So, come along, come along." Hikowa herded the kanmusu towards the medbay, shooing the sailors back to their tasks. Dawn touched her hand where the sailor had shook it, a small smile growing on her face.

"So we are making a difference."

* * *

"This hearing is concluded. All rise for the anthem!"

Three hundred chairs scraped across the floor as the entire chamber rose to its feet. The tinny sound of the prerecorded UEG anthem sang out from the speakers. The servicemen and women present snapped to salute, civilians putting their hands over their hearts. As the chords of the music swelled, so did the nearly imperceptible tension between the two factions. Nominally, the room might be united behind a single cause, but in reality they were as two brothers, fighting over mom's cookies.

Representative Harry Duncan, Chairman of the Parliament Armed Services Procurement Committee, waited a couple seconds after the anthem finished, then picked up his briefcase and headed for the exit. As he did, he could sense the venomous gazes of several soldiers burning into his back, along with a few civilians as well. No matter. If he was doing his job, the entire fucking galaxy could hate him, as far as he was concerned. Fuck those asshats and their budget priorities. Someone had to stick up for the democratic process and civilian government.

The marines guarding the entrance to the committee chamber didn't salute him, not that he expected them to. Saluting civilians was against regs, after all, but there was also something personal in the way they stiffened their arms and twisted their noses away, miniscule gestures the average person wouldn't notice but a seasoned politician would.

"Gentlemen."

"Representative."

He walked on, towards his own office where more work awaited him. The administration, like the puppets that they were, was trying to ram through a new budget that stripped even more funds from the Ministries of Education and Justice and funneled to the military. Duncan was pulling in all his favors to get the budget blocked in Parliament, denied passage or at least drowned in debate and procedure. President Ramsey would hate him, but what could that figurehead do? All he did was rubber-stamp everything the military put on his desk, dancing on the end of their puppet strings like half of Parliament also did. It was the other half that Duncan had to convince.

Arriving at his office door, he nodded to the two marines standing at the entrance. "Marines."

"Representative."

"I'll be in here a while. Don't let anyone in unless I tell you to."

"Yes, representative."

"Thank you." The average marines, the enlisted, hell, even some of the NCOs and junior officers were decent people. It was too bad that the brass' hatred for all things democratic and civilian had infected them as well. The matte grey barrels of their MA5Es, procured with money diverted from various _civilian_ projects, stood silent guard.

The door clicked behind him. He sat down at his desk, opened up his briefcase, and dialed the first number on his list, already engrossed in his work.

Outside, the marines stood stock still, heavily padded armor and machine guns intimidating anyone who thought about intruding on Duncan's work. They only had to incline their blue one-way visors, shift their fingers just a little closer to the triggers, and the interlopers suddenly realized they had urgent appointments on the other side of the parliament building.

So it came as a surprise when one such intruder, shady-as-fuck hood drawn up over their head, refused to back down even after given the patented marine stink-eye. The guards exchanged sideways glances, unsure of what to make of this person.

One of the marines stepped forward, hand held up. "Sir, I'm afraid I can't let you go in there. Orders."

"Come now, I just wish to talk to monsieur Duncan, non? Surely that is reasonable."

The soldier hesitated, torn between his professionalism and his loathing of the budget-cutting representative. Duty won out. "Sir, orders are orders. I can't let y-"

A palm strike under the chin snapped his head back. His partner yelled in surprise, stumbling back and bringing his assault rifle halfway up before it was yanked from his hands. The butt of the gun slammed into the marine's chest, throwing him into the wall. A hand wrapped itself around the back of the first marine's head, another around his waist. A quick push and a pull, and the man's was out cold, a dent in the ground where his head had experienced a rude, forceful introduction.

A quick look down the hallway confirmed that no one had noticed. Heads lolling, the two marines were tied, gagged and stuffed into a supply closet. Two small doses of aspernoctocide ensured they'd have no memory of their recent one-sided brawl. They'd wake up soon enough, but he only needed five minutes.

A knock came from his door. "What?"

"Representative Duncan, someone to see you."

"I've got no time for them."

"They refuse to go without seeing you. It's… Representative Hartman."

"Hartman?" Duncan pushed back from his desk. "Very well. I'll open the door." With a small turn, the lock clicked open, the door sliding to the side. "Hartman, what can I-"

"Bonjour, Monsieur Duncan."

"Huh?" Duncan blinked at the strange face that greeted him. "Who are you - where are the guards?"

"Oh, they're… reevaluating their career options. Would you mind if I came in?"

"Hell yes! Who the hell are you?! You know what, I don't care. Get out!"

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid that just won't do." Duncan blinked, and the man was gone. He whirled around to find him sitting on the window ledge, admiring an apple he'd taken from the bowl on the desk.

"A marvelous specimen. Grown on Prospera, if the color and texture are of any indication." He bit into it, crunching through the skin and crisp flesh. "Oh, yes, definitely Prospera."

"How did you- get down here!"

"Course." He slid off the ledge with the ease of a cat, leisurely stretching out his back. His hoodie still hid most of his face.

"What are you here for?"

"I'm here because you have something I want."

Duncan smirked. "If it's money, you picked the wrong guy to rob. I don't carry any on me." As he talked, his finger inched towards the alarm button on the bottom of his desk.

"Money? Yes. Yours? No."

"What?"

"You know that new program that's been floating about? Project Danbooru or whatever?"

"Project KANMUSU? Yeah, I've heard about that money sink. Why?"

The man held out a hand and made a gimme motion. "Funds, plox."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Am I?"

"I-you-bu-" Duncan spluttered in disbelief that anyone could be this brazen and nonchalant about such a ridiculous request. This was wrong on so many levels.

"Problem, rep?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. Let me be clear." The man flipped off his hood, revealing - Duncan recoiled - a bright red cybernetic eye and a dead serious expression. "You are denying funds to the one weapons program in the entire galaxy that has a snowball's chance in hell of winning us this war. Despite your many speeches to the contrary, you know as well as I do that conventional weapons aren't doing the trick. Unfortunately for you, me, and everyone we care about, KANMUSU is so deep in the red they're almost in infrared. This keeps up for much longer, they'll get shut down, no matter what anyone does."

"And I care because?"

"Zonya. 2560."

The color left Duncan's face. "You can't. You wouldn't."

"A man once took my order at a restaurant. I turned his family, his friends against him, got him fired, put him out of a house, made him the pariah of the community, drove him to suicide. I am a petty, infantile, vindictive, irredeemable son of a bitch. Do not make his mistake, representative."

"Alright, alright! How much do you need?"

"There! I knew we could be reasonable! 750 million, please."

"Okay…" Duncan wrote out the order and handed it over. The man took it, looked it over and pocketed it, apparently satisfied.

"Merci, monsieur." His goal achieved, he headed for the door.

"Wait!" At Duncan's voice, he turned, eyebrow raised. "What's your name?"

A smirk passed over his face. "My name? I have no name. I was never here. In fact, I don't exist. But I'll be watching you. Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Good meeting with you, representative." He gave a mocking little bow. "See you around."

* * *

Birds chirped in the trees lining the wide boulevard. Civilians made their way through the city, chatting, laughing, shopping, eating, going about their daily lives. Children laughed and played in the park while their parents watched, bright light of the local star soaking into and warming their bodies. A hot dog stand did brisk business, selling its wares to hungry customers, and slipping the occasional extra frankfurter to a child whose mother would not allow it. VTOLs criss-crossed the skies, public and private transports mixing and mingling, bringing people to and from their workplaces and homes. Several kilometers away, skyscrapers towered over the skyline, spearing kilometers into the air, the heart of the business districts buzzing with the activities of small companies and gargantuan corporations alike. Just another day in New Seoul.

"Right. I see. Send the families my condolences and their hazard bonuses."

On the 500th floor of a seven kilometer skyscraper, the employees of Xingzhou Resource Industries Ltd. moved with a purpose, performing the tasks necessary to keep the 10th largest corporation - and largest military resources contractor - in UNSC space running. Invoices, contracts, bills, letters, order sheets, confidential documents and secure information of all kinds flew back and forth in a flurry of dead trees and ink. Though the sheer amount of moving paper would have impressed even the bulk carrier pilots of the Galactica Postal Service, it was only a small fraction of the information that passed between the various branches of XRI. Petabytes of information flowed through XRI's proprietary secure networks, conveying all manner of information not considered sensitive enough to waste hard copy on.

"I want our contract with Coyote Black terminated. They're nothing but a waste of money. Blacklist them."

The order went out through a quantum data link, one of the few of its kind that not even the UNSC had more than a handful of, from a sound-proofed, Faraday-caged office located in the exact center of the floor. Unlike other offices, there were no windows or decorations of any kind, only a single, armored door equipped with a top-of-the-line gravlock, unlockable through a DNA, iris, and fingerprint scan, and permission from the inside. Within, the issuer tapped a few icons, changing the channel to which they were connected.

"How soon can Mitsubishi-Haito replace it? In three weeks? Unacceptable. I want it done in two."

A note was made on a ledger. The comm went back into its dock, left to await the next call. With a sigh, the chair was pushed back from the table, its occupant standing up and striding to a viewscreen. With a swipe, the blank screen changed to display a view of the New Seoul skyline. It almost made for a pleasant view, fluffy white clouds gliding across a bright blue sky, if one could ignore the combat air patrols and UCAVs swooping among them. If one looked down one could see a vibrant scene of city streets filled with businesses and shoppers, if one could ignore the main battle tanks, checkpoints, sniper and machine gun nests, rocket and gausshogs on every other street corner, and the omnipresent four-man patrols, heavy body armor and machine guns standing out amongst the casual t-shirts of the civilians. Looking left, cargo ships filled the harbor, bringing good to and from the space elevator, sharing space with ship-buster equipped interdiction corvettes, VTOL carriers and guided missile destroyers.

"Goddamn… that's the sixth this week, eighteenth this month." The words were mumbled quietly, escaping the lips almost involuntarily. A heavy sigh tore itself from the throat. No matter what they tried, each day just brought with it news of more cargoes lost, crews killed, vessels destroyed, earnings cut and the red deepening. The only reason they were still afloat was the amount of money the UNSC was dumping into them to keep their operations going. The UNSC couldn't afford to lose their supplier, and they couldn't afford to lose their backer. Two drowning men, clinging to each other to stay alive, all the while a shark circled around them.

A row of photos on the wall, the only decorations, caught the eyes. The stern visages of men and women looked down at the desk from across the room, as if judging whoever sat there with their static eyes. Past CEOs of XRI, gazing down at the current to forever remind them of the responsibility and history behind them. The current CEO found some humor in that. The way things were going, their portrait might never take its place up there.

Odd. The comm was buzzing. No more calls were supposed to come until three o'clock. What was this then - and a priority at that? Intrigued, temporary existential crisis left behind, the CEO moved to pick the device up. The click of a secure channel establishing itself, and the CEO moved to initiate the conversation.

"Hello?" A moment passed and an eyebrow raised. "Admiral Lasky. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Another beat, and the other eyebrow. "Is that so?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, the mouth twisted itself into a smile. "An offer I can't refuse, huh? Take it or leave it? Very well." Fingers moved, unconsciously listing off figures, performing the calculations of cost and profit. They balled into a fist and relaxed, a conclusion reached. "I'll start from five hundred thousand."

* * *

With a groan, Garcia slouched the two meters from the cot he'd had set up in the office next to his desk. He plopped unceremoniously into the chair, pulling up the latest briefings.

"Fuckin'... another collapse… goddamn marines need to get their shit together… 5th and 19th MEUs in full rout… 31st Army as well…"

Shaky helmet cam footage played out across the screen, showing various scenes of soldiers fleeing in panic from overwhelming attackers. One or two tried to stand and fight, only to be overtaken and disappear under a black wave of enemies. Tanks burned and aircraft plunged to the ground, trailing fire and smoke. The streets were littered with dead. Some corpses, freshly deceased, remained intact, eyes still open and mouths twisted in screams of horror, lying in quickly drying pools of blood. Others, having been dead for more than an hour, had decayed to nothing but the black ash left over from the touch of an Abyssal weapon.

"What're the joint chiefs doing… tryna plug the gap? What're they throwing in there… Seventh Penal? Poor sonsabitches. They're gonna die."

An alert reminded him of the work he had to do. "Let's see… our accounts are still in the red… huh?"

Berlin and Laumer chomped down on whatever breakfast they could get as they ran through the corridors, pulling on shirts and holding up pants. Bagel crumbs spilling onto the floor and coffee staining their clothes, they piled into the office, hastily saluting, swallowing and catching their breaths at the same time.

"Sir!"

"Commander Laumer. How did 750 million show up in our books out of nowhere?"

He blinked. "Sir?"

"You heard me. I said I wanted more funds, but cooking the books is going a little too far! If you did something illegal, we're gonna have JAGs up our asses so far we'll taste them!"

"Sir, it wasn't us."

"And besid- huh?" Garcia paused mid-rant. "What do you mean?"

"Wasn't us. Do I _look_ like I have a few hundred million just lying around? I don't want to get court-martialled any more than you do, sir."

"Well, then, who was it? Admiral Lasky's arrangement isn't supposed to come through un-" He clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening as his brain caught up with his tongue. "You heard nothing."

"I did not, sir. The funds came out of nowhere. If it was one of us, they did it without tripping any of the firewalls or locks."

"Well… huh." He sat back in his chair, contemplating the screen and the sudden plethora of money he had to work with. "Recommendations for what to do with it?"

"Uh…that's more of the S&T Division's forte. You want me to go get them?"

"Sure." He waved them off, still staring at the seven zeros on his screen.

As the door to the office sealed behind them, the pair walked down the corridor to the Strategy and Tactics Division. Berlin tapped buttons on her datapad while Laumer looked downwards, seemingly deep in thought. They continued on in that fashion for a bit.

"Lieutenant Eichel?" Out of nowhere, Laumer spoke up, causing Berlin to jump a little and nealry drop her datapad.

"Sir?"

"Do you really know nothing about the accounts?"

"Nothing at all, sir."

He stopped and turned to her, eyes dead serious. "I don't like being in the dark, lieutenant. You were the only one in that soundproof room with me. Either you told someone, or the admiral did. Knowledge is power, and if you have it, I want it." He put a hand on her shoulder. "My door's open anytime."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Could you… stop touching my shoulder?"

"Huh?" He looked at his hand, almost surprised to find it on her arm. "Oh, my bad."

As he walked on ahead, Berlin wiped a drop of sweat from her brow. "Too close…"

"What was, that, Lieutenant?"

"Huh? Nothing, sir!"

* * *

"Aw yeah, that's the stuff."

Amber groaned as she sank into the medbay's bathtub. The warm water surrounded her, therapeutic water jets gently massaging her sore muscles. Before handing her a towel, Hikowa had commented this was supposed to be good for strain injuries, as well as a general post-op relaxant. Amber didn't really understand any of it, but the thing felt good, and as she sank deeper into the bathtub, blowing bubbles out her nose, that was all she needed to know.

"Aaaaaah…" She'd have to get out in a few minutes, but for now, as long as nobody interrupted her, she could forget about everything for a little bit.

"Amber?"

"KYAAAAAA!"

"Uwaa!" Dawn stumbled back, hands clamped over her ears. "Wh-what the hell?!"

"What the hell?! I should ask you that! Haven't you ever heard of _knocking?!_ " Face flushed red, crossing her hands over her chest, Amber pulled the curtain shut once more, tying it to the pole. "Why the hell are you in here, anyways?!"

"W-well, the Admiral just got his hands on a bunch of resources, and he wants to try boosting our numbers for the next operation. He wants us on hand to advise in Compartment 20D. Can I look now?" Dawn replied, hiding her equally red face behind her hands.

"Get out!" Once the click of the door lock reached her ears, she pulled aside the curtain and drained the tub, muttering invective under her breath. She took some comfort in the warm fluffy towel, burying her face in it and pretending for a few seconds she was still in that tub. Briefly, she considered pulling on the robe, but opted instead for her BDUs, laid out on a nearby stool. Pulling on her cap, she slid open the door and headed for compartment 20D.

Dawn waited out in the corridor, shuffling awkwardly. As she passed, Amber did not acknowledge the incident, but just motioned curtly for her to come along. A brief blush spread across the Charon class' face before she complied, head hanging low.

"So what's Garcia aiming for?"

"I… don't actually know."

"He's doing another blind?" Dawn nodded, engendering a groan in response. "Greeeeaat. We got lucky the first time with Autumn, but he realizes it's a crapshoot, right?"

"Uh, I guess. Well, no, not really. We're _all_ new to this, remember? Maybe he thinks his luck'll hold." She put a contemplative finger to her chin. "Although he seems to be hedging his bets. I saw a _lot_ of titanium being brought in. More the better, right?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"I know. You know. He might know, but what're you gonna do? People do what feels right."

"True that."

* * *

"Materials?"

"Check."

"Power?"

"Check."

"Medical?"

"Ready."

"Alright, start the music!"

Every single man and woman who could play a note was on hand for this. Garcia wanted this to be loud and bombastic as possible, the better to convince any shipgirls to come back. Hikowa stood next to him with a team of corpsmen, ready to rush in with nanojectors and bandages. Major Armandez stood by with a squad of marines, heavy weapons at the ready for security. Everest and Autumn, his two heavy hitters, also readied themselves to subdue anything that might come through.

-Tip of the Spear Reach OST-

The strings did their thing, marines and sailors taking pleasure in the simple act of making music. The brass boomed beneath them, trombones and tubas laying down the accompaniment along with the drummer, beating out a rhythm on his personal set. Everything seemed to be set up right.

Garcia just hoped it would be enough.

* * *

"So, tell me more about this 'feeling' you had."

"Well, it was like a feeling of… warmth, you know? Safety?"

"Could you elaborate?"

"Well almost like… you know the feeling when your mom puts her arms around you? And you feel like nothing in the universe could possibly go wrong?"

"I guess."

"Well, it was like that. And also-"

"Hold up." Steiner cut Li off mid-sentence, staring intently at something behind the Spartan. Li turned to follow her gaze to the small canister she'd brought back. Was it… shaking?

* * *

 _Pride of the fleet, they'd called her. Humanity's finest, they'd said._

/SYSTEMS BOOT/

* * *

"Anytime now…"

Garcia couldn't stop his foot from tapping nervously, watching the massive pile of metal and fuel in the center of the room. Logically, he knew it would take some time, but he couldn't help being anxious.

* * *

 _Safe as long as she was in the skies above, they'd said. She'd hold'em off, they said._

/OS 2… BOOT COMPLETE/

* * *

"Has this happened before?"

"No, ma'am."

* * *

 _Of course, all for naught, wasn't it? The vaunted pride of the Navy, blown up by a single shot._

/REACTOR… FUNCTIONAL/

 _All that strength, all that pride, and in the end, she was just a target._

/WEAPONS… FUNCTIONAL/

* * *

"Everest, should something have happened by now?"

"Probably. I dunno… something's off."

* * *

 _A pale life, a disgraceful death. She'd died in shame, shame that she couldn't do more._

/PROPULSION… FUNCTIONAL/

 _But… what was this? They wanted her back? Why? A failure like her?_

/SLIPSPACE… FUNCTIONAL/

* * *

"Marden, come with me."

"D-doctor?"

"I'm going to get a closer look."

* * *

 _This new enemy… could it be? Did she have a purpose once more?_

/LAUNCH… FUNCTIONAL/

 _How could they trust her to fight, after she'd failed so badly?_

/RECOVERY… FUNCTIONAL/

* * *

"Something's not right."

"Eeyup."

"Shit. Major, standby for orders."

* * *

 _Well, this was an opportunity to redeem herself, and damned be if she didn't take it._

/ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL/

 _She wouldn't fail. Not this bloody time._

/ALL CHECKS COMPLETE/

* * *

"Uh, doctor, it's starting to move faster…"

"Intriguing… and without visible energy inputs…"

Something tickled at the back of Li's neck. Something was about to happen.

"Doctor! Look out!"

* * *

 _Humanity needed their pride once more._

/UNSC CVG-1 TRAFALGAR… BOOT COMPLETE/

"And you'll bloody get it."

* * *

Doctor Steiner had only perhaps half a second of warning. In that span of time, the humming increased to the point where Li had to activate her helmet's audio dampers to save her eardrums. The sound and the shaking of the container combined were enough to make the floor shake, knocking Steiner onto her ass.

"Doctor! What's happening?!"

"Stay back, I don-"

A gleam of light, brighter than anything Li had ever seen - and she'd stared straight into a nuclear blast - blazed out from the sides and ends of the capsule. The light filled the room, blacking out her helmet optics and forcing the techs in the observation room to clutch their eyes, driving them to their knees in an attempt to escape the glare.

As quickly as it came, the light disappeared, leaving behind a single point of dark, inky blackness. As it went, it seemed to suck the air out of the room, leaving all present mute and immobile, capable only of staring dumbly at the point.

A splintering noise, a rending shriek, and the darkness expanded in a rippling, uneven wave. It grew in two dimensions, having area but no volume; if a tech had been brave enough to get near enough to measure it, they would have pronounced it a plane, with no depth of any kind, an idealized two dimensional surface, right before being obliterated so hard the very concept of their being would cease to exist.

From the dark surface came a series of dull thumps, as if something was pounding at the other side. Steadily, they increased in frequency and force, until it sounded like a tank gunner was having a bad day and then some. Several technicians, still blinking away the spots from their eyes, had to grasp their ears to keep eardrums from rupturing. The impacts transmitted themselves through the air, vibrating the walls, the glass, the floor, everything in fact. At this point, Steiner, still taking notes, had found cover behind a blast shield. Li crouched behind another shield, pistol in her hands, mag boots locked to the floor.

A final thump, sounding more like a shotgun blast in intensity than anything, and the darkness - to use an inadequate term to describe what could not be properly described - shattered, allowing a brilliant orange light to pour through. Between ministering to their comrades, blinded by the initial flare of light, the techs squinted at the breach, trying to discern any features they could on the uniform plane.

Spots of darkness began to break through the light, small, scattered dots slowly coalescing into a coherent form from the ground up. One of the techs, still struggling to get up from the floor, chanced a look up.

From the portal stepped a pair of tightly laced grey utility boots, digital camo fatigues tucked into their tops. Webgear wrapped itself around the upper legs, packed with pouches filled to the brim with magazines, grenades, and other tacticool gear. His gaze travelled upward, over the ballistic padding around the figure's stomach. Around that, too, was a utility belt with all manner of strange items. Poking out between the magazines were what looked like missiles, railgun rounds, canisters and crates of various shapes and sizes and… were those model planes?

Even higher, two hands covered in the rugged gloves of an ordnance technician clenched and relaxed, flexing fingers seemingly unfamiliar. Both forearms covered in some sort of vambrace type armor, festooned with screens and small antennae. A bulky armored pad covered the figure's - the tech still couldn't make out features, silhouetted against that brilliant light - right bicep and shoulder. A golden glimmer reflected off the aiguillette looped around the left shoulder, the emblem of an officer juxtaposed against a pilot's plain padded flight suit. Above that, a pressure collar rested around the figure's neck, light shimmering off the visor of the flight helmet sealed tight into the ring.

With a sound like a draining bathtub the portal snapped shut, abruptly cutting off the light. The figure jolted and looked up from its hands, as if startled by the sudden darkening of its surroundings. Every single person, from Doctor Steiner to the techs to the marines to Li stared at the figure, who managed to meet all of their gazes at once.

Suddenly, the figure reached upwards towards its helmet. The marines reacted swiftly, drawing shotguns and assault rifles, suddenly feeling woefully underequipped. The few techs who were armed drew their weapons as well, pistols held in shaky grips. Li slipped off her chair quietly, power armored footsteps surprisingly soft as she tip toed her way around the figure.

The fingers undid some unseen latch, as with a hiss of pressurized atmosphere, the helmet popped free. A small magnetic pad stuck it to the side of the figure's left leg. Short brown hair that just barely fell past the - the tech started - the girl's neck framed dark grey eyes.

"Identify yourself!" barked a marine, approaching carefully with assault rifle sighted. His courage nearly failed as those eyes locked onto him, but he steeled himself, shoving the barrel of his weapon forward. "Identify or we shoot!"

As quickly as it had come, her impenetrable gaze fell away, replaced by a wide grin. She struck a pose, shooting the marine a thumbs up and a wink. The soldier, confused, lowered his gun.

"Huh?" He jumped again as she began to talk, bright and cheerful tones contrasting with her initial impressions.

"My, quite the pickle you all are in, eh?" She held out an open hand, as if reaching for something nobody else could see. A quick snap, and her fingers curled around a handle that materialized from nowhere. Piece by piece, a M41 SPNKR assembled itself in her grasp. She popped open the top, pulled out a set of rockets from god-knows-where, slapped them in and locked the lid. A spin of the barrels, and a grin set in on her face.

"Well, rest easy now! Trafalgar's here! Time to let God sort those wankers out!"


	26. Chapter 24

/UNSC SECURE NET/

/CODE ACCESS: ************/

/HIGHCOM ISM 33291B/

"All roads lead to Horizon…"

Hood's finger traced the tangle of slipspace lanes surrounding the system. Around him, the assembled holograms of the highest ranking officers in the fleet did the same with their maps, contemplating the strategic situation.

"That system is the lynchpin. The Abyssals take it, they have a clear shot straight into the industrial centers," stated Admiral Lenkov, CINC 16th Fleet, pointing out the obvious.

"No shit, man. Why do you think Nishimura's up to her neck in that for, her health?"

"Just putting it out there, Clareton."

"Where the _fuck_ did the bastards come from? No build-up, no warning, bam!" Admiral Roston slammed his fist on the table. "They roll on in and walk all over her! Right after she somehow managed to drive off the first one, too!"

"For once, Osman's been of use and tasked prowlers with finding their origin. No intel yet, but I don't know if they haven't found it or if Osman's just being a close-mouthed bitch as usual."

Admiral Noori leaned forward and designated two items for everyone to see. "Second and Twenty-First are just finishing repair and resupply, could we blitz them in?"

"Just those two? It'll be a massacre." Admiral König shook his head. "If we go in, we have to go in with everything we've got." He tapped his display, highlighting several portions of space for everyone to see. "You see here? Prowlers confirm the presence of massive Abyssal buildups, a full fleet _group_. Nishimura's grinding down the one already committed to the fight, but she's sustaining four to one loss ratios."

"I know that, König, but if we don't do _something_ what's left of Seventh is going to be blotted out of existence!"

"If we send in the 2nd and 21st, we'll just lose three fleets instead of one."

"Could we hit them in the staging areas?"

"Possible. How many NOVAs do we have?"

"Not enough. You'd need a _hundred_ NOVAs to make a dent in a fleet group, and we have exactly _one_."

"Goddammit, we have to do _something!_ "

"We know, Thornton, why the hell do you think we're here?!"

"I don't see _you_ coming up with any smart ideas!"

"Like what you puked up onto the table _last time_?!"

"Why you-"

As the conference began to descend into a shouting match, Hood tuned it out to stare at his map. No matter from which angle he looked at it, the situation was bad. The slipspace lanes which had made Horizon a hub for production and turned it into a fortress world now threatened to split the UNSC in half. From his perspective, Hood could trace a path from Horizon to Reach to Earth itself.

 _Reach…_

"Hold on…" He activated a privacy field, confining his words to his immediate space. "Rorschach, can you run some numbers for me?"

A light blinked at the edge of his vision as the inkblot icon Rorschach used to represent itself came online. A gender neutral, perhaps just the slightest bit male inflected - Hood never could really tell - voice whispered in his ear. " _I am at your service._ "

"Alright. Here's what I want." Hood tapped buttons on his datapad, firing off a data burst to his private AI. A light humming filled his ear as the sentient program absorbed the information, parsing it, analyzing it, understanding every subtlety and implication hidden within the numbers.

" _Admiral, if you wanted to test my data analysis capabilities, I assure you there are much more realistic data sets to feed me, not to mention much more appropriate times to do it._ "

"These are real numbers." The AI managed to convey skepticism over a neural link. "Trust me. I'll send you the proof." Accessing his neural lace's data storage, he found the heavily compartmentalized file that contained the details of Project KANMUSU, flashing it over to Rorschach.

Rorschach's reply came in a surprised tone. " _Well then. In that case, that's quite a number. Let's see… assuming a drop in performance… and no outside reinforcement… yes. Yes. I believe it can be done._ "

"Perfect." He dropped the privacy field and sent a data packet to each of the gathered officers. "People, I've just had my AI run some numbers. Look over them, see what you think."

It took a few moments for the arguing officers to become aware of the presence of a data packet. Shooting venomous looks at each other, they opened the files, examining the information within.

Admiral Suwabe looked up first, eyebrow cocked above an unamused expression. "Terrence… with all due respect, what kind of joke is this?"

"You've been watching the news lately?"

"Of course. Doctor prescribed ten minutes of vigorous propaganda per day."

"You've heard of Project KANMUSU then?"

"Vaguely, it's been hectic."

Well." He leaned back in his chair, smoothing his surprise into impassiveness. "You'd think something more important would have stuck… "

"You alright?"

"I'm fine. Very well, sending you supplementary data. Ladies, gentlemen, it appears there is much to be caught up on. Luckily we have time on our hands, so allow me to start from the beginning."

* * *

"Shit."

Lowering his hand from his eyes, Garcia blinked to readjust to the suddenly dimmer light levels. The room was exactly the same as before, with one big exception: the resources were all gone. Several tons of titanium, hundreds of liters of deuterium and half a magazine of warheads, gone into thin air.

"Major?"

"On it. Security, this is Major Armandez. What happened down there, over?"

" _Major, I have no idea. Nobody got in or out, the doors are still sealed._ "

"Shit. Maybe they're invisible? Thermals, now." Toggling the thermal function on their visors, the marines in the room below fanned out, examining every bit of the compartment for signs of an invisible shipgirl. Up, down, left, right, not a single square centimeter was left unsearched.

" _Nothing, major. There's nothing down here._ "

"Understood. Keep your eyes peeled, deploy mist." As fog began to spread through the space, Armandez turned to look at her CO. "Sir, I advise we go into lockdown. Something just up and instantly made off with a good chunk of our resources _without_ getting caught by anyone or anything. I do believe this is a cloak-ghost we're dealing with here, and I intend to flush it out."

"A what?"

"A cloak-ghost. Camo-humper? Sneaker? Ninja?"

"No, but I get the gist. Lock it down."

"Roger." Pulling out her pistol, she triggered her comm override. "All fireteams, this is Major Armandez. Code Black, repeat, Code Black."

No alarms sounded, but a resounding _clang_ echoed through the station as heavy shielded blast doors slammed shut across choke points and corridors. Groups of sailors, technicians, and other assorted personnel suddenly found themselves trapped within the newly created partitions, unable to make the doors open. Those who looked for an explanation got none, save for the suddenly grim expressions on the faces of any marines stuck with them. Those troopers, while cut off from their comrades, knew exactly what to do, and many a sailor found themselves staring at the end of a MA5's barrel, their faces being scanned and scrutinized by the living manifestations of paranoia.

"Sorry Admiral, procedure says I have to verify all of your identities as well. Hands in the air." Armandez and the two other marines in the control booth rallied at the sealed door, aiming their weapons at the personnel in charge managing the summoning. Coming round to their situation, they stepped backwards from control consoles and got out of chairs, movements slow and deliberate as they raised their hands over their heads. Before moving onto the others, as per Code Black, the marines checked each other, confirming blood samples, biometrics, implanted ID chips and neural lace signatures.

"We're clean, Major. Moving."

"Roger that. I've got security." Pistol aimed, she covered her marines as they went person to person, making sure an infiltrator hadn't gotten in under an assumed identity. Gentleness was sacrificed in favor of speed, and several techs winced as needles were jammed into arms perhaps a little harder than necessary.

"I think we're good. All personnel verified."

"Okay…" Keying her mic, she hailed the marines stationed in the room below. "Anything down there?"

" _Nada Major, not a thing out of place._ "

"Security teams, have you caught the intruder?"

" _Alpha Team, negative._ "

" _Beta Team, negative_."

" _Charlie Team, negative_."

Armandez's face grew progressively paler as each response rolled in, something Garcia watched with some concern. " _Shit._ "

"Why? This is a good thing, isn't it?"

"You haven't done many counter-infiltration ops, have you? If you haven't caught the infiltrator, it just means they're still there. We either have an intruder who can phase through walls and make several tons of metal and fuel disappear instantly, or we have an intruder who mimic identities down to the _DNA_. Frankly, I'm not sure which one is scarier."

"Okay… what now then?"

"Now?" She made to answer, but seemed to think twice, shutting her mouth before it was half open. "I, uh, I… really don-"

"Wait a minute." Everest, ignored in the midst of Code Black, held up a hand, head cocked to one side. "Wait a minute…" She closed her eyes, concentrating on something nobody could see. "No… "

Her eyes shot wide open and she bolted from the room, the door's heavy seals providing only token resistance before giving way before the cruiser's massive thruster package. Reactions came a second too late, marines reaching out to stop a shipgirl who was no longer there, the sound of her footsteps already receding down the hall.

"Wha…?"

Garica's comm buzzed on his shoulder. On instinct, he reached up to answer it.

" _Admiral, this is R &D! Something… something happened with that weird canister the task force brought back! There's… there's… some girl… send backup! Quickly! I don't know what we're dealing with! Out!_"

"Autumn! What's going on?!"

The cruiser put a finger to her chin, sticking her bottom lip out in thought. "Well… if I had to guess… it seems like R&D's managed to summon a girl of their own, hm~?"

"How?!"

"Spirits can be drawn to some strange things, hm~? I should know, I almost materialized in an armory." She looked around, looking confused at the incredulous expressions she was receiving. "What? Don't look at me like that, hm~?"

"Come on, let's go!" Armandez barked the orders, already halfway out the door. Her marines stormed out after her, rifles up and ready. Garcia and a few techs followed, the rest electing to remain in the control booth to continuing monitoring the summoning room, avoiding having to deal with any more of this sparkly anime magic ship girl bullshit.

Autumn paused on the threshold of the door, looking at her sensor readings one more time. She had to hide a small giggle behind her hand, partly from the excitement of meeting another old comrade, partly from anticipating Everest's reaction.

"If it's who I think it is…" She summoned her combat outfit without the rigging, settling her helmet onto her head. "Oh, it's going to be _fun_ when Everest meets her, hm~?" With that, she jogged off down the hall, humming a cheerful tune and leaving the techs to stare confusedly at her back.

* * *

"Admiral Hood, with all due respect, why am _I_ to lead this… _combined fleet_?"

 _For one, maybe it'll teach you some_ respect _._ "Admiral Belmonte, your fleet has the shortest travel time to Horizon, and you ha-"

The admiral waved his words aside with an impatient gesture. "Yes, yes, I know that, but why must I associate myself with these… _kanmusu?_ "

"You have a problem with them?"

"Such an untested force… they'll only weaken my fighting ability."

"They managed fairly well at Earth and Reach, and they took out that one Abyssal st-"

"Bah. Exaggeration and rumor. Honestly, Terrence, I thought you knew better than to fall for such things."

"Are you protesting the order?"

"Oh, no, no, no. You misunderstand me. I'm perfectly happy to rescue our dear friend Nishimura."

 _Sure you are._ Belmonte and Nishimura had some kind of history, that much Hood was sure of. Whatever had happened in the past, those two could never truly work together. Most meetings with both of them present devolved into shouting matches factions led by the two.

"Perhaps she'll come around more to my perspective once I do." There it was. Of course there a caveat. Where those two were concerned, there was always another layer. Tactical brilliance leaking into personal deviousness? Hood didn't know, but it was enough that he would have liked to keep them both stationed on the edges of the galaxy. Opposite edges. Too bad that he couldn't afford to, what with their respective fleets having the highest kill-to-loss ratios in the UNSC Navy - well, until now, he supposed.

"Admiral Belmonte, for the nth and final time, I don't know what happened between you and Nishimura, but I am ordering you to put it aside. This is larger than whatever petty feud you two have. The last time around, the Abyssals got within a cunt hair of taking the system, and we all know how that went down, don't we?"

"Terrence, please, you don't have to remind me. We _all_ responded to TERRA Contingency, Admiral Lasky just got there first. Still, bugger if I can figure out how you managed to destroy that fleet."

 _Kanmusu, but you wouldn't believe it._ "A story for another time. Now, I assume you've read your orders?"

"Of course. Why?"

"There's been a update. The Imperium's offensive on the Skram Frontier has been more successful than anticipated, and they've been able to lend us a battle group. A carrier battle group."

Belmonte cocked an eyebrow, already evaluating ways and plans to integrate this into his order of battle. "Which one?"

"CABG _Unyielding Truth_."

" _Unyielding Truth_? That would be Fleetmaster Urak 'Bratol, right?" Belmonte let loose a derisive snort. "What, is the Imperium trying to _sabotage_ me?"

"What's wrong?"

"You know who Bratol is, right? The First Battle of Ranegol?"

"Ranegol? The one Arbiter tries to pretend never happened?"

"The one. Bratol's group was the first to break, you know."

"So…"

"I don't want some cowardly family-connections appointee in my fleet. Unless I have assurance that Bratol's past performances will not repeat themselves, I'm afraid it'll have to find its _honor_ in the rear." He paused on that last sentence, seemingly considering his words. "Might make for good cannon fodder though. I've heard CASes can take it on the chin."

"You can say that to me. Say that to anyone else and your head will roll."

"Tch. Parliament needs me more than I need them, and they know it." His smirk sent a slight shiver down Hood's spine. "If there's one thing Ni-ni and I both agree on, it's how to get those spineless fucks to dance on our strings."

"Yes, I suppose we've all blackmailed someone at some point. Not to our credit." Adding that last part in a whisper, he shook his head, waving away the subject. "Anyway, we're off topic. Your orders are amended. Proceed to Reach to receive resupply and reinforcement. You will board Apex Station, where you shall meet with Fleetmaster Bratol and Rear Admiral Garcia, CO Project KANMUSU. You have overall command of the operation; I expect a full battle plan, agreed to by all parties, by this time in three days. Understood?"

"Yes…sir."

* * *

"You wouldn't happen to have a kettle around these parts, would you?"

"A… a kettle? In the lab? I think that's against regul-"

"Um…" A technician peeked out from behind a console, raising a sheepish hand. "We… might have one… in the break room." He hung his head.

He shrank back even further as Dr. Steiner frowned at him, magically appearing carriergirl forgotten. "A kettle? You know th-"

"That's brilliant! Nothing like a spot of the ol' black to brighten the day, since you all look so down!" Trafalgar clapped her hand together, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee. The marines still surrounding her backed off, keeping well clear of the rocket launcher on her back. "I don't suppose you've got a cooker around too? Can't rightly tell why, but I'm feelin' a mite bit peckish, eh?"

"Uh… we've got some snacks in the fridg- hang on!" The marine snapped out of his daze, fixing a glare on his face and bringing his rifle back up. "We're asking the questions here! Hands in the air! Fucking identify yourself!"

She cocked her head, hand on hip. "Didn't I tell you? I'm Trafalgar."

"What the fuck kind of name is that?! Shut up with the babbling and answer!"

"Bloody hell, are you all quite daft? I've told you twice, I'm CVG-1 Trafalgar, pride o' the fleet!" She thumped a fist against her chest as she said it, looking quite proud of the fact.

The marine was less than impressed. "Wrong answer. On the floor, hands on your head."

"Hey, what's the big idea?! One of you wankers brought me back, didn't you?! I'll have you know I was just fine havin' a kip, and I really don't know if I shouldn't get right back to i-oof!" With a few swift movements, Li stepped forward, hooked an arm around Trafalgar's neck and planted her right foot in the back of the carrier's left knee. Within moments, the surprised carrier was on her knees. In a couple more her face got an introduction to the ground and her hands were being cuffed by an unamused marine.

"So what, you're supposed to be one of those shipgirls? You've got the wrong room, summoning's not happening here. For someone so confident, you aren't very good at this."

"Shipgirl? 'S that what you're callin' me now? I guess it could be wor-mmmf!" She broke out of the hold, gasping for breath. "Seriously! It's good you're on the job, but there's no need to get your fannies in a twist!"

The marine made to answer, but a knocking on the door interrupted him. "Who is it?"

"Where is she?! Where's Trafalgar?!"

"Trafal-who are you?!"

"Motherfucker, do I need to break this door down?! It's Everest!"

"Shit, it's you?! Hold on, coming!" A tech ran to the door, in a hurry to get it open before a super heavy cruiser did even more damage to the infrastructure. "Ah shit, it's locked or something!"

"Can't you release it?!"

"It's not the usual lock! It's really stuck… fuck it, overriding!" From Trafalgar's point of view, still pressed against the floor, the door slid open, admitting a pair of UNSC digital camo utility boots. They stopped just short of trampling over her head, though Trafalgar had no doubt that their owner would have dearly loved to.

A light, cheery, yet extraordinarily condescending - Trafalgar had to take a moment to feel grudging approval - voice confirmed their identity. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Everest…" she ground out between gritted teeth. Above her, the marine's grip lessened a bit as he seemed to hesitate.

"Sir, you know this person?"

"Hell yeah I do, let her up." The grip on her neck didn't tighten, but didn't release any further. "I _am_ technically a lieutenant commander, you know."

"Yes sir!" The pressure on her body instantly disappeared, allowing Trafalgar to roll over and finally stand up, coughing out the dust that she'd sucked up from the floor.

"It seems the Queen herself has deigned to grace us with her _distinguished presence_. Time to pull out my best china, your majesty?" Everest swept into an exaggerated bow that failed to hide the leer on her face.

"Save it, arsehole. If I'd-" she paused to rid her lungs of the last of the dust "- known you were going to be here, I wouldn't have bothered."

"Ooh, scared are we? Well, not that I expected anything else from a remfie."

"The fuck you'd just call me?!"

"Oh, nothing! You must have misheard! Sensors getting rusty after so long in the rear?"

"Bloody fuck, one more word out of that piehole and I'm going to beat your arse into a pulp, you outdated piece of scrap!" Her face red from shouting, she strode up to Everest, grabbing the cruiser's collar. In response the girl looked upwards, squinting, seemingly searching for something in the ceiling.

"Hey, what's that on the roof? Oh, look, my killcount! Let's count, shall we? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, oops, I lost track! Now, let's count yours." Pulling a faux-shocked face, Everest put a hand to her mouth, the other around Trafalgar's shoulder, and leaned in close. "Unless- oh my! You don't mean to tell me, you don't have them?" she said in a stage whisper.

"Get stuffed!" She pushed Everest away, knocking her to the ground in the process.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, let's all calm down here a moment." A technician, seeing the beginnings of tears starting to make their way to the corners of Trafalgar's eyes, positioned herself in between the two, hands held up in a calming gesture. "We're all on the same side here, aren't we?"

"Sure, if you don't count sitting on your ass and using up supplies as detrimental to the war effort, then sure, yeah, she's on our side." The carrier spun around at this, having turned to get some dust out of her eyes.

"Fucking shut your goddamn mouth! While you were puttering about the Outer Colonies, I made sure the supplies got through! I made sure Innies didn't blow up the factories that made your bullets or the docks that fixed your scratches! So bugger off and jerk your ego some more, you half-witted colonial!"

"What's going on here?" The five marines in the room, keeping a wary eye on the situation, spun on their heels and saluted the newcomer. Poking her head in, Armandez took stock of the situation. "Marines, report!"

"Situation is I am getting the fuck up outta here before I get the piss beaten out of me." He glanced back at the two girls, still getting progressively closer to each other despite the best efforts of the technician. "Sir, there's only one way this is ending, and insurance doesn't cover death by blue on blue."

"Everest? Who's that? What's going on?" Garcia arrived on the scene, out of breath, Autumn close behind.

"Oh, Admiral. Nothing much, just putting a little remfie in her place is all."

Where they stood, poised precariously on their toes, any shift, any outside force would have forced them together. Li mumbled something about checking on her friends in the sickbay and executed a tactical withdrawal, followed by several marines and technicians saying much the same. The rest of room stood stock still, afraid of making any moves that might result in a less than favourable situation with the glaring exception of Autumn, struggling to open a bag of chips she'd procured from the break room pantry in anticipation of the coming show. And open it she did, tearing open the pouch with a violent motion.

The explosion of pressurized gas escaping its container startled all present. One marine dove for cover, a technician curled up on the floor, Armandez dropped to her knee with her pistol out, and Garcia reached for a decompression kit that wasn't there.

"Grenade!"

"Incoming!"

"Hull breach!"

"Holy fuck! What just happened?!"

"Sorry, sorry, just me. They really ought to make these bags easier to open…" Autumn trailed off, a fistful of synthetic potato chips forgotten halfway to her mouth, her eyes fixed on a single point. Slowly, they turned to follow her gaze.

Their eyes wide in disbelief, the carrier and the cruiser found themselves frozen in place, unable to disengage from the involuntary kiss in which they'd ended up. Everest's legs wobbled under the combined weight of two bodies, having jerked her arm back in reaction to the bang and pulled Trafalgar forward by her collar.

One marine fainted. Another activated his helmet cam while his buddy snapped the shutter on his camera as fast as the mechanism would cycle. Several techs turned bright red, hurriedly turning away with hands clamped over their noses. Garcia sighed and hid his face behind his hands, eyes clenched tight. As those whose self-preservation instincts hadn't yet been drummed out of them ran for cover, Armandez simply raised an eyebrow.

Trafalgar was the first to react, pulling her head back fast enough to cause whiplash. "Wha… wha?"

Despite sporting a blush that would have shown up on deep space scanners, Everest managed to plaster a grin on her face and put together a complete sentence. "Hey, you're pretty good at this! Must come from your captain, what with all the practice he had! Did the commission ever get to the bottom of his case?"

The temperature, previously boiling hot, dropped to absolute zero. Everest blinked at the deadly atmosphere, realizing she might have just gone a bit too far.

"Oops."

* * *

"Admiral."

"Captain Lopez?"

"If you could come with me for a minute…"

"Of course." Hood turned back to the bureaucrat with whom he'd been speaking. "You'll have to excuse me, something's come up." Ignoring the man's objection, he followed Lopez around the corner.

"Sir, about that prisoner we acquired…"

"The prisoner? Ah, yes, Subject WHISKEY."

"The one. ONI's managed to pry some intel out of the thing." Lopez glanced around, then pulled a small, hard file case out of his briefcase. "It's too sensitive for me to say anything, but take a look. It explains how the Abyssals are building up so fast around Horizon."

"I understand. Thank you, Captain." He took the case and parted ways with the captain, calling for transport. Half a minute later, a small cart trundled up to him on the magnetic rails embedded in the floors of Orbital Command Platform Atlantic. A couple of marines and sailors already occupied the vehicle, but after saluting they moved over to let him on.

His destination already known from his transportation request, the cart moved along. The marines and sailors attempted to make small talk, but CINC-NAVY's presence put a bit of a damper on that. Little matter though, as within a few minutes he'd arrived at his destination.

The door to his office opened upon his approach, cued to his neural lace. "Welcome back, Admiral." Rorschach's voice - was that a feminine inflection he detected? - greeted him as he entered, his inkblot blinking in greeting. The door slid shut as Hood moved past the small receptionist's area, unoccupied for now.

"Set seals and warn me if anyone comes in. Is the roof turret still loaded?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Thank you Rorschach. Is your voice different?"

"Oh, you noticed? I learned people respond better to different kinds of voices, so I'm trying out some new tones I got from the database, see if I can't get people to be more open with me. Here, want some audio samples?" the AI enthused. Amatuer psychology and audio mixing featured highly in the short list of Rorschach's hobbies, which also included some strange 21st century cartoon game he played with other fleet AIs.

"Maybe later." He made his way to the desk situated in the inner sanctum of his office, opened the file case and placed the documents into the scanner. Once the green bar filled up he extracted the papers and placed them into the incinerator. Competing with the light from the fire spilling through the small acrylic window built into the device, the scanner projected a holographic representation of the files, the data to be destroyed once he was done with it.

"KANMUSU's useful in more ways than one, huh?" Numbers and graphs rolled by, biological data recovered from analysis of the prisoner, armor and weapons analysis, preliminary psychological profiles. Each section, each paragraph, sometimes each sentence marked with a classification rating. Most were merely 'Specialized', marked eyes only for various R&D departments. Hood wasn't concerned with those.

"Production facilities? Permanent factories? That's a massive investment, they're that much in need of extra troops?" He looked closer at the analysis. "And this kind of output? What're they playing at?" He flipped over to the next page.

"Prowlers confirm? I guess it's true." Putting the intel to the side, he pulled up the files containing available forces. With a few taps, fleets would move, armies would march, aerospace craft could blot out the sky. "Belmonte won't like this, but it's going to have to happen. Rorschach?"

"Yes sir?"

"Get me Admiral Lasky. The Reach Defense Fleet has a new task."

"So… to recap… you're Spirit of Fire?"

"Um, I guess?"

"You're the soul of the ship, in human form?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And you're here to fight these… Abyssals?"

"W-well, also to save you… I guess that's d-done now."

Cutter pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a severe migraine coming on. "And I'm supposed to believe this?"

"Trust me sir, it's a little hard at first, but once you see what these kanmusu can do, you'll be a convert." Spinner elbowed Ballet in his ribs. "Right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, those girls are something else, let me tell you. Captain Cutter, if you give it some time and an open mind, you'll come round soon enough."

"That could be harder than you make it out to be."

"Well if a lazy bum like my co-pilot here can do it, I'm sure a war hero can too, eh?"

"War hero…?"

"Guys? I'm… still here…" Spirit waved from behind the others, still meekly trailing after them.

"Oh, sorry Spirit. You should talk a little more, you're really quiet you know? Hell, Captain Khalid told me to try to get you to open up a bit more, seeing as hmrmrurm." Spinner put her hand over Ballet's mouth, grinning nervously.

"Seeing as how you should shut your mouth." The silence now awkward, they continued in this fashion, making their way towards Cutter's temporary quarters. Marines and sailors did double takes as they passed, tripping over themselves to salute a hero of the Covenant War.

Approaching the labs, the atmosphere began to return to normal. Ballet and Spinner began to compare current UNSC tech with War-era equipment, expressing various degrees of amazement at how Cutter and his ilk had, in their words, 'managed to even get a shot off in those broken-down hunks of junk'." About to retort, Cutter was cut off by Spirit's upheld hand. Every muscle in her body went tense as she strained to hear something.

"Something's not righ-"

With a shower of shattering glass, an armored form came hurtling out of an observation window, crashing to the floor and skidding for several meters. From the freshly broken window came the sounds of a massive brawl; Cutter winced at the smacks of fists and feet colliding with metal and flesh.

"Autumn!" Spirit ran forward with a cry, grabbing the dazed girl and pulling her out of the line of fire. "Are you okay?! Say something!" Grabbing her shoulders, she shook 'Autumn' back and forth.

"Uugh…"

"You're alive! C-captain! Help me, she's injured!" Choking down the questions on his tongue, Cutter knelt down beside the incapacitated girl, unsure of what to do.

"I-I've got a repair kit on me, I have to!" Patting down the pockets of her engineering rig, she pulled out a thick black box. As she did, Autumn's mouth moved, a tiny motion that produced no sound Cutter could hear. He leaned in close to listen.

"... worth it." A grin spread across her face and she went limp, out cold, a trickle of blood running from her nose.

"Got it!" With a grunt, Spirit wrenched open the case, ducking just as a technician sailed, screaming and flailing, over her head. "C-captain, please hold her arm still!" Placing his hands around Autumn's still twitching bicep, he exposed the back of the limb to the syringe now clenched in Spirit's hand. Sweat beading on her brow, she lowered the needle point towards Autumn's skin, a drop of green fluid dangling from the ti-

"Whoa whoa hold it! Hold it!" With one hand he wrenched Autumn's arm out of the way, waving the other frantically. "What the hell is that green shit?! That's toxic! What're you doing?!"

"W-what?! C-captain, it's not poison! It's instant repair fluid!"

"The hell's that?!"

"It's-" She winced as another technician fled past her, screaming for help. "It's a solution containing-"

"Will you hurry up?!" Her words were drowned out as Ballet screamed at her from where Spinner and he hunched over a downed marine.

"Eep! Y-yes, sir!" Forgetting that she nominally outranked him, Spirit jabbed the needle in and depressed the plunger. As soon as the green liquid disappeared, the bruises on Autumn's skin began to fade in size and color.

"One down-"

"Corpsman up!" Spirit shot to her feet and ran to the next casualty, putting away the repair kit and breaking out bandages and painkillers, Cutter trailing close behind. The two pilots, feeling extremely out of their depth, also did what they could as chaos descended around them.

"Security to Lab 5, RC Loadout!" Major Armandez backpedalled from the doorway, pistol drawn and sighted. Garcia and Steiner came after her, running full-tilt for cover. Behind them, more shouting joined the original two voices. Flashes of light, sharp blasts of sound and clouds of acrid smoke came from the shattered window as stun grenades and tear gas began to go off.

"Help!" A significant dent in his chestplate, a marine stumbled out of the lab, choking on gas that had made it past his respirator. Behind him, Everest slammed against the floor, clutching at the arm pinning her throat to the ground. She rolled her head from side to side, barely dodging punches that cratered the deck. Using Trafalgar's distraction to her advantage, she wrapped her legs around the carrier's waist and, with a grunt, pulled the lighter girl onto the floor as well, leveraging the fall to bring herself up.

Gasping from the shock of the impact, Trafalgar rolled over just in time to catch a stomp originally aimed at her head on her shoulder. Grasping for anything within reach, her hand closed around a still-intact beaker. She launched herself upwards with one arm, swung her other arm up and around, smashing the glassware into her adversary's face. As Everest reeled back, Trafalgar tackled her by the waist.

Both girls back on the ground and ignoring the various cuts and bruises that covered them, they began trading shots at a rate which no normal human could have maintained. Trafalgar rolled and tucked, dodging several strikes which dented the floor and getting in several of her own past Everest's guard. For her part, the supercruiser stood her ground, tanking the carrier's hits like she was meant to and returning them, landing punishing blows that staggered her opponent and would have floored an ODST or two.

"Done yet, remfie?" Everest dodged past a haymaker, coming back to land a hook on Trafalgar's jaw.

"Not on my life, colonial!" Spitting a gob of blood onto the floor, she took hold of Everest's still extended arm, pulling it to the side and planting a boot in the overextended cruiser's exposed stomach. As she reeled backwards, Trafalgar rolled Everest over her shoulder, sending her crashing into a cabinet. "Don't EVER talk like that to me again, you BITCH!" Poised to deal the final blow to her battered opponent, Trafalgar cocked her fist back, Everest helpless beneath her.

At that moment, a group of small metal cylinders rolled into the room. By instinct, both combatants turned to look at them, and directly into the brilliant flash of three stun grenades detonating at once.

"Move! Out of the way!" A fresh squad of marines came to a halt in front of the lab, decked out from head to toe in riot suppression equipment. Positioning bulky aramid-titanium shields further strengthened by energy field projectors in front of their bodies, they activated their heavy stun rods, electricity coursing through the one and a half foot long batons.

"Jenkins! Knockout gas, on my mark!"

"Yes, sir!" His voice muffled by the heavy helmet and respirator covering his head and face, Jenkins went to a knee, pulling out the grenade launcher hanging from his back. He spun the rotary magazine once to check that each grenade still rested securely in its chamber, then gave a thumbs up to his squad leader.

"Mark!" Eight pulls of the trigger emptied the magazine, sending eight stubby projectiles arcing through the air. The marines closed their eyes and looked away, but the light of eight detonations still made it through the hardened, polarized visors of their helmets. "Move in!"

In double file the marines charged through the door, each trooper's buddy bracing them from behind. Helmet mounted lights illuminated the gas filled laboratory, revealing shattered glass, broken tables, sparking wires, and the bodies of two girls, still twitching on the ground.

"Goddamn…" With a quick twist of his hand, the squad leader assigned five marines to one girl, five to the other. Each team got to work subduing its subject, clamping handcuffs around wrists and restraints around ankles.

"Hey-stop moving-gah!" Trafalgar's half-conscious resistance came to an end as two marines brought stun rods down upon her. Her body convulsed from the electricity before falling still.

"Hah… couldn't handle it… could you…" A dazed grin on her face, Everest rolled over to stare into the barrel of a R-217E shotgun.

"Fuck." A flash filled her vision, and everything went dark.

* * *

"Goddammit Everest, I thought you were better than this! You tore up an entire lab, thousands of credits in damage - for what? Satisfying some kinda grudge?!"

"Hmph." Crossing her arms as best she could beneath her chest, Everest turned her nose up and away, staring determinedly at the roof, the walls, anywhere but Garcia or Trafalgar, currently sitting on a chair opposite the supercruiser and in a position much the same.

"The only reason I haven't shot you myself is that you had the luck to be our most valuable asset!"

"Why thank you-"

"I'm not finished! Major Armandez, escort the Lieutenant Commander to the brig for three weeks confinement! Further punishment will be decided at a later time!"

"Hey wait wha-" Two marines cut her off mid-sentence by grabbing her arms and hauling her to her feet. A third marine stood behind their prisoner, tapping a stun rod against his leg. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!"

"You're already on quarter-rations. Pray that I don't go further." Clamping her mouth shut, Everest allowed herself to be dragged out of the room. One unpleasant task done, Garcia turned to address the other one.

"And you. Trafalgar, you say you are?"

"That's right, and bloody good job you did putting that colonial in her place-"

"Shut up." To punctuate his statement, Major Armandez stepped forward, unsheathing a shock baton already crackling with energy. Behind her, a marine racked back the slide of his shotgun, chambering a electroslug. "You haven't exactly made the greatest of first impressions. You're summoned, and the first thing you do is assault one of my subordinates? Not funny."

"Bloody fuck, I've told you, she started it!"

Armandez leveled the baton at her chest. "I'd advise you to be quiet You're not making this any easier for yourself."

"Stand down, Major." Garcia regarded the girl with distaste. "And as for you, you are sentenced to three weeks in the brig on one-eighth rations, to be followed by two weeks hard labor! Further penalties are not out of the question! Consider yourself lucky to not be shot. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"What?! You can't do that, I'm no-gyah!" She slumped over, twitching from her second electrically induced blackout that day. Garcia looked her over with some concern.

"She'll be alright, right? I mean, not a lot of people can take that much without some permanent damage."

"I had Hikowa run some analyses on the sly. Seems their bodies have more capacity to absorb electrical charge than we do. I could route an entire capacitor bank into her and she'd only be out for a week." She ran a hand over her chin. "Actually, they're a _lot_ more resistant to all sorts of damage than us, even without that gear of theirs on. Hm… maybe I could get them to volunteer on the testing range…?"

"Denied." Garcia shuddered at the thought of the 'weapons' routinely used on the experimental testing ranges of the UNSC. "Get her to the brig, and keep Everest away from her. I don't know what their deal is, but I do not have the time to handle it."

"That's right, Admiral Belmonte is due in a couple of hours, isn't he?"

"I'll need you there."

"Roger that sir. I'll get my dress blues."

"Do that. Oh, and find Dawn and Amber, will you?" He sighed, rubbing at his temples. "They should be present for whatever's going to happen, 'cause bet my ass that's it's going to involve them. Whatever it is."

"Duly noted, sir. I'll have them report to the conference room."

* * *

"Officer on deck!"

The Pelican's thrusters flared, slowing its downward descent as the dropship came to rest in the hangar. Facing towards each other, two rows of marines came to port arms. Garcia stood between the columns and watched the rear hatch of the Pelican, Armandez and Laumer standing half a step behind him.

With a hiss of hydraulics, the ramp lowered. Garcia rendered a salute as Admiral Belmonte walked stiffly down the ramp, refusing the loadmaster's offer of help. He came to a stop in front of Garcia and returned the salute, sweeping his gaze over the assembled personnel.

"A quaint little operation you have here, Admiral."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"It was not a compliment. Take me to the meeting room." Laumer moved out of the way as Belmonte swept past, followed hastily by Garcia.

"Hey, Laumer, what's his problem?"

"You don't know Admiral Belmonte? Well, you're not Fleet, so I guess you wouldn't have. He's supposed to one of the best commanders in the Navy, alongside Admiral Nishimura."

"What about that limp he's got?"

"He's got a- huh, I guess he does. Probably from when he had a carrier shot out from underneath him in an Innie ambush. Nobody knows what really happened, but when reinforcements got there he'd defeated an entire flotilla." Laumer paused and heaved a sigh. "Unfortunately, he's also an insufferable jackass with friends in high places."

"Ugh. Here's hoping Garcia can deal with him."

"Deal with him?" Laumer had a chuckle at that. "The only person who can deal with him is Nishimura herself, and maybe Admirals Lasky and Hood. Anyone else gets absolutely crushed and I don't think Garcia will be any different."

"Well then." She looked apprehensively at Belmonte's retreating back. "Shall we get crushed?"

"By all means, lead the way."

* * *

"And this is the place?"

"Yes… delegate."

"Thank you." The ODST gave a curt nod, wrinkling his nose behind his mirrored visor. To think that he had to _escort_ this piece of inhuman filth, protect it, instead of ripping its guts out… but no matter. Orders were orders, even if he felt the urge to puke anytime he went within fifty meters of the thing.

"Just this way, delegate. This room's been set up for the meeting." The split-lipped alien nodded, disappearing through the entrance to the spacious conference hall, followed by its retinue and the poor liaison officer assigned to it. As the door closed, the ODSTs took guard positions.

"Huuaah!" With a swift movement, one of the troopers pulled off their helmet, shaking her hair free and gasping for breath. She doubled over, coughing and choking.

"Goddammit! I fucking swear the filter is broken! I was breathing in that fucking… thing's _stink_ all the way!" She regained control of herself, wiping the spittle off her mouth. "Sarge, why haven't we killed it yet?!"

"Get ahold of yourself, Kat. That 'thing' is a squid official, with-" the sergeant sneered "- _diplomatic protection_. If an accident happens, somebody might get _upset_."

"Still, why in God's name are we friends with them in the _first place_?! Did the politicians just _forget_ how they committed fucking _genocide_?!"

"Watch your mouth, trooper. It's all 'in the past'." The sergeant held up her hands to make air quotes around the words. "They're our 'valued allies'."

"Kat's got a point, sarge. Mom lost everything in the war. Died of cancer from glassing radiation when I was four. Why should I just forget that?"

"Because of your _orders_ , Powell. Somebody decided that, God knows why, these 'kanmusu' things are going to meet with our esteemed comrades-in-arms." That got a round of mirthless laughter from the troopers.

"Nice one!"

"Good one, sarge, I'll make sure to use that next time we've got leave!"

"Comrades-in-arms? Ha! Ya know, if you weren't my superior, I'd rip you limb from limb for that!"

"Believe me, troopers, if there's ever a chance to kill a split lipped bastard, let me know. I'll be the first in line. But, we have orders. Besides-" her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "-you've heard what these kanmusu are supposed to be, right?"

"Some bullshit about reincarnated spaceships. Why, should I care about some weird ass code-lingo?"

"Oh yes. Because if that's true - and I'm not sayin' I think it is - and they really are ships that were destroyed in the war, whaddya think their reaction's gonna be when they see an Elite strollin' on up to them?"

"Well I'd probably-" A look of realization came over Kat's face, quickly morphing into a dark smile. "You don't mean to say-"

"Yeah, I do. We might need a mop after this one. Look alive troopers, someone's coming."


	27. Chapter 27

/ONI SECURE NETWORK/

/LIVE TRANSCRIPT 60774/

"Well? Any progress on translation?"

"Well, the eggheads have got some sort of program going, but they've been able to get a few things just off of listening. They think 'wo' means 'yes' and 'wo' means no. Also, 'wo' is please and 'wo' is thank you/your welcome depending on context. WHISKEY doesn't use 'wo' a lot, so I guess it really doesn't matter."

"Brasilia, first of all, you're rambling again. Second of all, how the _hell_ is 'wo' different from 'wo'?!"

"Apparently it has to do with small fluctuations in the frequency of the sound. WHISKEY's throat structure is uniquely suited to generating those fluctuations." Operative Brasilia took gulped down a mouthful of coffee, wincing as the bitter brown liquid burned the back of his throat. "Want some, Havana?"

"What, that liquid shit? You out of your mind? I'm sticking with plain old water and you should too, if you know what's good for you."

"Nah man, I need this to stay awake. The key is not to taste it. You've got to swirl it around the side of your mouth, don't let it touch the tongue. 'Course it also helps if you do what I do and load it with sweetener."

"I suppose," Havana said cautiously, glancing down at Brasilia's waistline. The operative ignored Havana's gaze, leaning forward to gaze through the large one way window in front of the two black ops agents. Subject WHISKEY stood in the bay below, each limb restrained with a separate binder bolted tightly to the floor or to a titanium stand erected especially for the purpose, each capable of discharging enough electricity to knock out a Spartan IV fireteam on its lonesome. "How'd they figure out what meant what anyway?"

"One of the marines had a cheeseburger." Brasilia gestured with his chin, pointing out the black-clad covert ops troopers stationed at intervals around the perimeter of the room, chameleon armor blending in with the walls well enough that even Havana's augmented eyesight had trouble picking them out. "WHISKEY noticed and started, well, asking for it. That's how they got 'please' and 'yes'."

"And, 'thank you'?"

"The marine was understandably reluctant to hand over his lunch - nearly violently so, in fact - but one of the eggheads overrode him in the name of science." Brasilia chuckled, pointing to one particular marine looking fuming positively volcanically in a corner. "Half-pounder with cheese and bacon, and WHISKEY ate it in three bites. They got 'thank you' from that."

"Makes sense, I guess." Havana looked down with renewed interest as the scientists offered item after item to WHISKEY, noting down reactions and sounds produced. "You hear?"

"What?"

"Tokyo's coming back for some R&R in a couple weeks."

"Tokyo? Please, God, no, my dick still hurts from when she last came back." Havana aimed a fake punch at Brasilia's lecherous expression. "No, not like that you creep! That girl kicks unbelievably hard. I couldn't even get off for two weeks, it hurt so bad! Besides, everyone knows she and Paris have got a thing, and I don't know which one I'm more scared of."

Brasilia wiggled his eyebrows some more, then got serious. "Still, Tokyo _never_ takes time off. Twenty bucks says this isn't just R&R."

"Twenty more says she'll have another mission within the hour."

"Done."

* * *

With the unscheduled arrival of the 12th Fleet, the job of Reach Space Traffic Control had become harder by several orders of magnitude. Civilian traffic was shunted aside, crammed into three tiny traffic lanes to make way for the three thousand warships of the 12th Fleet. More than one private craft had broadcast a complaint, but the sight of frigates and destroyers accelerating on interception vectors quickly changed their minds. Lines of cruisers stretched for thousands of kilometers as they queued up for their turn at fueling and supply stations. Battleships and carriers floated gracefully over it all, their long shapes reminiscent of the sharks of Earth's oceans.

"Yes sir. I understand, Admiral. The RDF is at your command." Closing the comm window, Lasky let out a few choice words not entirely appropriate for Admiral Belmonte's presence. The bridge crew around him studiously ignored his outburst. "Captain Shen?"

"Yes sir?"

"You have the con. I've got a meeting to go to. Effective now, operational command of the RDF is Admiral Belmonte's."

"Yes sir. I acknowledge your orders and will comply." With an exchange of salutes, Shen took the command chair from Lasky.

"Attention on the bridge, Captain Shen has the deck."

"This is Captain Shen, I have the deck." The change of command noted in the log, one more salute was exchanged before Lasky stepped down from the raised platform upon which the chair sat, leaving Shen to his duties. A quick concentrated thought and a request for transportation went out from his neural lace.

As the door to the bridge sealed behind him a tram trundled up to him, emitting a little beep once it was safe for him to get on. After securing the seat belt across his lap, Lasky entered his destination into the pad mounted in the armrest.

Moving along at a respectable 30 km/h, the tram made its way toward the hangar where his shuttle awaited. The trip should have taken only around five minutes, but multiple stops along the way to pick up and drop off additional passengers lengthened that to ten. Though the delay irked him, he used the time to talk to the marines and sailors who utilized the cart, listening to their concerns and making sure they would be addressed.

"Hm… so the reactor software is bugged?"

"Only a few non-critical parts sir, and we have them quarantined, but I'm afraid we haven't found all of them and that they could spread. We just found it, I was on my way to report it."

"Good job, sailor. I'll make sure this gets taken care of." A relieved grin on her face, the sailor snapped a salute before jogging off to her next destination. Lasky put in a work order for debugging.

"Guess I should get to the hangar. Roland?"

" _What's up, Admiral?_ "

"Split a copy of yourself and upload to my neural lace. We're going for a ride."

" _Roger that. One sec._ " He waited, listening to the light humming that Roland made whenever he engaged in some task. " _Got it_. _Uploading…now._ " An icy rush, colder than usual, filled the back of his head as Roland's clone inserted itself into his implant. " _Plenty of room in here, explains much._ "

"Shut up."

" _Oh hush. You'd be salty too if Yamato_ and _Musashi got taiha'd on E-7._ " Roland's frustration leaked through barrier of the implant. Lasky decided to switch the subject.

"Well, get me a route to Apex Station. I have a meeting with Admirals Belmonte and Garcia."

" _Ouch._ "

"Indeed. I'm seriously reconsidering rejecting that cyanide pill."

" _I can always overload your jellyware from where I'm sitting. Just give me the clearance and the word._ " Roland sighed. " _Just count yourself lucky it isn't an intersystem meeting. You'd have to wait days for an FTL comm slot. HIGHCOM doesn't know how good they've got it with slipspace links on demand._ "

"Appreciated, but unnecessary." The deck crew, performing final maintenance on his personal Pelican, looked up and saluted as he passed. Hoses snaked across the deck, carrying everything a dropship needed to fly. Lasky stepped over two steaming pipes transferring liquid oxygen and nitrogen to the internal atmosphere tanks and made his way around another in the process of removing the last vestiges of carbon dioxide from the storage cells. A small group of sailors hefted fuel cells back and forth, replacing spent canisters with fresh ones ready to supply the energy to convert fuel to thrust. Ordnance carts wound their way through the hangar, delivering fresh shells for the Pelican's autocannons and missiles for the underwing launchers.

"Admiral Lasky!" The pilot stood up and came to attention. "Ready to fly sir, where to?"

"Just a quick hop to Apex Station. There should be a flight plan ready for you."

"Well, what do you know? Thank you sir."

"Hm." The restraints lowered across his chest as soon as he'd taken his seat. From outside the hull, he could hear the clunks of pipes detaching themselves from the Pelican and the footsteps of sailors running to retrieve them. The pilot strapped himself in as well, performing a few final internal scans.

As the rear hatch sealed itself with a hiss of excess atmosphere, the pilot keyed his mic. " _Infinity_ FLIGHTCOM, this is Alto Five, ready for takeoff, over."

" _Alto Five, this is_ Infinity _FLIGHTCOM. You are cleared for takeoff, over._ " Clearance gained from flight control, the pilot looked to the deckmaster standing off to the side. Substituting gestures for voices made garbled from the roar of the Pelican's engines starting up and the protective headphones everyone wore, she shot a double thumbs-up at the cockpit, crossed her arms, and swept them to the side. The pilot returned the thumbs up, then pressed a final button in on his console.

With a whine of servomotors, the floor split apart, allowing the platform the Pelican rested upon to descend into one of the several launch tubes underneath the hangar bay deck. As the floor sealed shut above the dropship, a hiss coming from the overheads told Lasky that the atmosphere supply was now independent and internal. With a quiet hiss, the atmosphere in the launch tube evacuated, leaving the Pelican sitting in as close to a perfect vacuum as could be achieved by modern equipment.

" _Tube is vac'd! Rails are hot! Tube is open! Confirm launch!_ "

"Confirmed!"

" _Launching in three, two, one, launch!_ "

"Umph-" Even with the Pelican's inertial dampers on full, at least two g's of acceleration still bled through to press Lasky backwards into his restraints. As the launch carriage lurched forwards, screaming down the launch rails towards the void beyond the tube doors, Lasky thanked his lucky stars that he'd had the foresight to order rotatable seats for his dropship. He said a quick prayer for the marines and sailors who still had to suffer through having their sides crushed against the unyielding surface of the restraints during hard maneuvers.

"We are clear! ETA to Apex Station, ten minutes, sir." The seats rotated to their normal flight configuration, the two rows facing each other. With the Pelican settling into normal flight, the weight disappeared from Lasky's body, allowing him to unbuckle and stand up. The magnetic soles of his boots held him to the deck, the UNSC having long decided that artificial gravity on a dropship was wasteful and unneeded.

He made his way to the backseat of the cockpit. The pilot acknowledged his presence with a brief nod, but otherwise ignored him. He strapped himself in again and took in the view from the cockpit window.

Most of the ships currently in-system, their numbers swollen by the 12th Fleet, were too far away to make out as more than pinpricks of light, but Lasky knew that on the pilot's HUD each and every object within a hundred thousand kilometers with mass and a vector to its name would be labeled. If Lasky wanted, his implant would produce an overlay for his own vision much the same as the pilot's.

"Blade Flight, this is Alto Five. Gettin' a little close there, watch your seven and down, over." Lasky couldn't hear Blade Eight's response, but the pilot snorted a laugh. "Nah, if I wanted to enjoy the view, I'd call up your boyfriend, over!" Above and in front of the Pelican, a group of seven lights swung around and up.

"Well, that's taken care of." The pilot leaned back in his chair, allowing the momentum of the dropship to carry it along its vector. "Hey, Admiral, could I ask you something, sir?"

"Of course."

"Sir, about my… my transfer…"

"Ah. About that. The paperwork still hasn't gone through, I'm afraid."

"Huh? I thought they needed more pilots out there?"

"They do, but for some reason I can't seem to get your work processed."

"Sir, I have to get to the frontlines! I mean, it's fine flying for you and all, but I'm sick of sitting on my ass! All my buddies are calling me a remfie and they're not fucking wrong!"

"Well, each of us contributes to the war in their own way."

"Sir, it just feels wrong hanging around in an air-conditioned cockpit while my friends are all getting blown out of the sky over some backassward planet!"

"I know how you feel, lieutenant. If it's any consolation, I feel much the same."

"Yeah, well, at least you can actually do something. I'm just a pilot. Sir." He turned back to his controls, shaking his head gloomily.

The rest of the flight passed in silence. Lasky returned to his seat in order to catch up on the never ending piles of paperwork that came with being CINC-RDF. It helped that the pilot only needed to make a few minor course corrections, gently nudging the Pelican towards an intercept with Apex Station.

"Apex FLIGHTCOM, this is Alto Five. Requesting landing clearance, over."

" _Alto Five, you are cleared to land in Hangar 8, over._ "

"Copy Apex, proceeding to Hangar 8, out." The pilot knocked on the hull to get Lasky's attention. "Sir, heads up, we're comin' down."

"Thank you." He stowed his datapad and strapped in for landing. Peering through the cockpit window, he could see the brightly lit opening of the hangar growing larger with each passing second. Small figures in colorful vests ran around like ants on the hangar deck, a few waving red batons to guide the Pelican in. A ring of lights illuminated a section of deck emblazoned with a large L.

"Roger… coming left… wheels down… contact." A slight bump passed through the dropship as it settled to the ground. "Solid contact… balance good… main engine shutdown, auxiliaries shutdown, atmosphere transfer on standby, all systems winding down." The whines and clanks of machinery slowly died down, and the pilot flashed a thumbs up and a grin to his passenger. "Thank you for flying Alto Airlines, your premier intra-system shuttle service. We hope to see you again, sir."

"The same to you." The rear hatch unsealed and dropped, allowing light and fresh air to spill into the dropship's interior. He ducked under the overhead and walked down the ramp, saluting the waiting marine escort as he did. Behind him, the ground crew ran to move the Pelican out of the way of the next inbound craft, an Albatross laden down with a cargo of titanium.

"Marines, take me to Conference Room G."

"Yes, sir! This way, sir!" Beating a quick rhythm, the marines marched off with Lasky in tow. Rifles discouraging anybody from interfering with the Admiral's passage, it was not long before they arrived at the entrance to Conference Room G. "In here, sir."

"Thank you, marines." He paused, hand halfway towards the door. Something in the marine's eyes had caught his attention. "Is there a problem, marine?"

"Sir? No, sir!"

"Marine, you can tell me. Don't worry."

The corporal gulped. "Well… it's not a problem, per se, but it's a… question my people and I have."

"Well, out with it."

"Sir! We were wondering if… if those… girls were actually… you know…"

"Spirits? Spaceships?"

"Uh, no, uh, yes, sir." He sighed and turned away, rubbing the back of his helmet. "Stupid, huh sir? Kind of a weird codename to pick for them, though."

"No, not at all. You're right on the mark. You haven't spent much time around them, have you?"

"No sir, we've been patrolling a different section of the station."

"If you ever see them, talk to them. There's just some way about how they hold themselves, how they talk, a feeling they give off that'll convince you." He paused, then amended his sentence. "That, and the way they fight. You've seen the footage, right?"

"Could've been faked, could've just been some weird ONI project. Both are a helluva lot more likely. But I guess you're right sir." He chuckled and rubbed the back of his helmet again. "I mean, who'da thought? Not complaining though, they're kicking some real alien ass if what I've heard has any truth to it, sir."

"Some real alien ass, huh?" What was it about those words? A feeling of dread, like something had just gone horribly, horribly wrong. "Marines, stay with me and stay alert."

"Sir? Trouble?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Be ready." Drawing his M6D from its place on his thigh, he punched in his unlock code. Immediately, the door slid open before him, allowing him into the spacious, airy, plant-filled lounge that fronted the conference room. Across the way, a squad of five ODSTs stood guard in front of the entrance to the room itself.

The black armored troopers reacted quickly to his presence, their apparent leader stepping forward to greet him. "Admiral Lasky, sir! We weren't expecting you." Warily, she eyed the pistol in his hand. "Is there a problem?"

"There might be. Open the door."

"Sir? Not everyone's here yet, shouldn't we wait a bit?"

"What are you talking about, it's nearly past starting time! Open the door!"

"Sir, they're still setting up inside, I'd recommend waiting." Out of the corner of his eye, Lasky saw the other ODSTs shift slightly to stand in front of the door.

That did it. Something was up. "Open the door. That's an order!"

"Sir, I can't do that." Despite the heavy soundproofing which surrounded the conference center, Lasky could now hear faint shouts and yells from behind the door.

"Helljumper, let me in."

"No, sir." In a flash, his pistol was up and aimed, leaving the ODST to stare down the barrel at the tip of a chambered 12.7 millimeter M225 SAP-HE round.

"It's been a long time since I've fired this, but I _did_ qualify as sharpshooter at Corbulo." He cocked the hammer back. "They say ODST faceplates are strong. Strong enough to resist machine gun fire. Shall we find out?"

The ODST had her rifle halfway up, not quite pointed at Lasky's stomach. "Sir, please. You can't possibly trust that split-lipped bastard in there. They're all better off dead."

"What does that have do with anything?!"

"Let's just say, by the time those girls are finished, I reckon I'll need mop and a bucket." A flash of light that managed to penetrate that polarized visor revealed the nearly feral grin the ODST wore. "And I'm in no hurry to stop them."

"You-!" He flipped pistol around so he was holding it by the barrel and swung the butt into the side of the trooper's helmet. With a grunt of pain and surprise, the mutinous ODST sank to her knees, clutching the side of her head. Her rifle clattered to the floor to be hastily scooped up by one of the marines accompanying Lasky.

The fallen rifle broke the spell that had fallen over the other ODSTs. As one trooper sprang forward to drag their comrade back, the others closed ranks, stubbornly refusing to let Lasky through.

"Sir, please. That alien deserves to die. Please, I know you can understand!"

"Is this a mutiny?!"

"I..."

The ODST trailed off, staring at something behind Lasky's shoulder. Lasky turned his head, keeping his pistol trained on the rebellious soldiers.

"Soldiers obey orders." The Master Chief came to parade rest behind Lasky, his green-armored form towering over all present. As usual, his voice revealed nothing and his visor concealed any expressions that would have given away his inner thoughts. Even his posture was carefully schooled to be perfectly neutral. Despite that, his being radiated a sense of menace, strong enough that the hardened troopers quailed under its pressure.

"I'll say it once more. Let us in."

"... yes sir." Hanging his head, the trooper moved to the lockpad and tapped in the entry code.

"Marines, arrest these people and confiscate their weapons. They are to be locked in the brig until a punishment for their insubordination is decided." Still not quite sure what was happening, the marines moved to obey, confiscating rifles and herding the ODSTs into a corner. His way finally cleared, Lasky approached the door. The entry code shone in the lockpad - all he had to do was press 'open'. Still, he hesitated, listening closely. "Master Chief, your analysis?"

"Unknown situation on the other side. Possible combat. Advise caution."

"Right you are. On me, Chief." With a held breath, he keyed 'open'.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! I'LL KILL IT, I'M GONNA KILL IT! LET ME AT IT!"

"Amber, no! Calm down, please!" A wildly swinging fist nearly decked him across the jaw. He ducked under it, sliding to the side and past the entrance threshold.

"FUCK DIPLOMACY! I'M GONNA KILL THAT SPLIT-LIPPED MOTHERFUCKER! GENOCIDAL SON OF A BITCH'S WHORE, I'LL TEAR IT'S FUCKING GUTS OUT!"

"I suppose this answers a few questions." For all intents and purposes frothing at the mouth, Amber struggled against Dawn's restraining hug, spit flying from her mouth as she screamed herself red.

"Chief!" Spotting the Spartan, Dawn swung her head around, a plea in her eyes. Chief hesitated, glancing at Lasky for permission to intervene.

Lasky jerked his head, giving Chief all the permission he needed. He stepped forward, evaluating the situation. There were many tactics he could have used to subdue the girl, but most of them involved explosions and death. Non-lethal measures, if they were to be employed, would have to take into account the increased durability of his target, not to mention that the target's wild movements made applying the precise strikes necessary to stun, not kill, quite a bit more difficult. But as Amber wrenched an arm free from the pin Dawn had on it, Chief knew he didn't have much time to suffice.

A relatively gentle spear hand to the throat would suffice. Waiting for his moment, Chief stood patiently, completely still, giving no indication of his intentions. The target swung back and forth, not presenting an opportunity to strike, but would do so soon. All he had to do was watch.

"Uh, Chief? Are you going to-" Like a viper, his arm blurred into motion. Amber doubled over, clutching at her throat and gagging, rage forgotten in the shock of the blow.

"Let her fall." Dawn complied mutely, releasing her hold, letting Amber collapse onto her hands and knees, still coughing and choking. A chop to the back of the head put an end to that. Catching the unconscious frigategirl before she could hit the ground, Chief gently laid her on her back. A quick touch and listen confirmed her pulse and breathing were normal. "We're good."

Garcia, motionless in the corner of the room until now, rushed forward with a cry. Before he could get close, his way was blocked by a couple of marines.

"Sir! Stay back, she might be dangerous!"

"Dammit, she's my subordinate! Let me see her!"

"Listen to your marines, Admiral." Lounging in his chair, Belmonte gave no sign of having been affected by the display other than a slightly raised eyebrow. "It would appear your 'subordinate' is rather out of control today, wouldn't it?"

"She's not usually like this!"

"Really now?" Letting out a faux-saddened sigh, Belmonte shook his head. "Well, get her out of here. I suppose there's no point in keeping her around. We're late to start as it is."

"Yes, sir. Dawn, get her to the sickbay!"

"Yes sir!" She gathered her comatose friend into a fireman's carry, mumbled a hasty farewell, and retreated from the room.

"Oh, Admiral Garcia?" Belmonte made a shooing motion. "I'd recommend you go with them. She looks to be in a bad way."

"What? But, sir-"

"No need to worry, I'll have the transcript sent to you in due time." His pleasant expression did not shift an angstrom, yet something in it changed that sent a shiver down Garcia's spine. "Now please, attend to your subordinate."

"Y-yes sir." With a sigh and his head hanging low, he followed Dawn from the room, passing Lasky and Chief by.

"Oh. Admiral Lasky. You… came. And… the Master Chief." He gestured down the table. "I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting Fleetmaster Bratol yet."

"Fleetmaster…?" Unnoticed in the commotion until now, a dark form shifted at the end of the table. Adjusting the formal cloak which indicated his rank, the Sangheili stood, towering over the non-Spartans present with his eight foot tall stature.

"Fleetmaster Urak 'Bratol, commander of the CAS _Unyielding Penance_ and her battlegroup. Fleetmaster, Vice Admiral Thomas Lasky and Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117," Belmonte said smoothly.

"Yes, that is my name." Bratol shifted slightly, indicating the door. "If I may inquire as to who that was…?"

Belmonte answered before Lasky could open his mouth. "Oh, nobody you have to worry about. Some of our personnel, regrettably, have trouble controlling their emotions. Rest assure she will be disciplined."

"Hmph. Such passion is admirable, even if it is in the form of death threats, but I hope that in the future such outbursts could be controlled." Something in Bratol's eye told Lasky that the Elite knew more than it was letting on, but the Fleetmaster waved it away.

"I do hope that such unpleasantness won't affect the conduct of this meeting. It would be so unfortunate if we had to postpone."

"It is no matter. Arbiter will not accept any delays in the execution of this operation. Any weakening of the Imperium's defences at this moment, even if just by a single carrier battle group, is unsustainable for a long period of time."

Belmonte nodded, opening his mouth to reply. Lasky decided that it was now or never to get his piece in. "Hold on. I was not informed that the Imperium would be contributing forces."

"Oh, yes. I was meant to tell you. I forgot." Belmonte's smile had " _and what are you going to do about it?_ " written all over it. "As a matter of fact, since you are unfortunately lacking the prerequisite information to plan an effective strategy, I have taken the liberty of creating the plan myself."

"Huh?" A notification chimed on Lasky's datapad. He glanced down just as a large file finished downloading itself. "Hey, how did you-"

"I have my ways." Belmonte waved it away. "I apologize for the inconvenience of the trip, but it was just impossible to get ahold of you in time to cancel it. Anyway, I believe you can peruse the files on your own time. In fact, why don't you take this opportunity to go and read them over?"

"Wait, don't I still have to-"

"Lord Hood's orders were to come up with a plan and to share it. I have followed my orders. _We_ have nothing further to discuss. I will finalize plans with the Fleetmaster, but as of now, you are dismissed, _Vice Admiral_ Lasky."

Lasky stiffened at mention of his formal rank. "Yes… sir." He saluted, spun on his heels, and turned to leave. Chief lingered a moment longer, staring down the table at nothing, before turning away as well.

As the door shut behind them, Lasky turned to the Spartan walking half a step behind him. He spoke in a voice slightly strangled by the humiliation of having been so casually put in his place. "Where've you been this whole time?"

Chief replied in a stiff, emotionless voice. "Hangar Bay 9. Spartans 092, 130, and 042 have not yet been revived." Despite the Spartan's best efforts, his internal struggle still bled through, the joy of seeing his brothers and sisters once more tempered with the sorrow of being so close, yet not being able to speak with them.

"Say what?"

"A malfunction in the cryo tubes is preventing them from being resuscitated."

"Well…fuck. Is there anything I can do?"

"Unlikely."

"Maybe I can find some people who know something about those old cryo systems, see if they can give a fresh perspective."

Chief did not reply, but Lasky could feel an air of skepticism surrounding him. He had to admit that that prospect was extremely unlikely. If the crew, the people who knew those systems better than probably anybody else, could not figure out the problem, than who could? Certainly not the engineers present, as good as they were. The tech was just too foreign. To know those cryo tubes better than the techs who'd serviced them for years, one would literally have to had _been_ the cryo tu-

"Hold on." Lasky smacked his forehead. "I'm an idiot."

"Sir?"

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. We already have the one person most familiar with those systems with us." He looked up from his hands and smiled. "Spirit of Fire herself."

"Sir, do you think she will be willing?"

"Chief, do you know what the first thing she said when she woke up was? After, of course, 'where am I?' It wasn't 'who are you' or 'what's happening'. It was 'where's my crew?'" Lasky tilted a small smile in his direction. "I think she will."

* * *

"Hey, Admiral, just wondering if you had the time to-" Dawn tilted her head at the strange sight in front of her. "Um, is there a problem?"

"Huh? Oh no, no, come on in." Garcia lifted his head from the desk and straightened his clothes, forcing a smile onto his face. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was thinking about getting some cross-training going between my fairies and the rest of the crew, just so the techs know how my gear works. Looks like a bad time though, so imma just… pretend I was never here. Go visit Amber or something."

"No, it's fine. That's a good idea, fill me in." Dawn arched an eyebrow at the strained cheerfulness in his voice.

"You sure? You don't sound fine."

"I'm _good_ , lieutenant." He growled out the words, pinching the bridge of his nose against the headache now pounding at his skull.

"Sure. You're good. And that isn't-" she pointed to an empty nanojector, which he quickly pushed under the desk "- a stimpack I see there. And this isn't-" she held up a small cloth square "- one of Hikowa's head meds." She held the square out of range of Garcia's half-hearted attempt to retrieve it, shaking her head. "Look, I'll admit I'm fairly clueless most of the time. But even I can see that you're in no shape to be evaluating tactics right now. So before you get us all killed, how about we figure out what's up, and get this screwed on straight?" She leaned over the desk and rapped Garcia's head with her knuckles hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"Sonuva-! Look, I'll forgive that if you drop it!"

"Tell me what's up first."

"Do I need to call Major Armandez?"

"Not until you tell me what's eating you."

"Dammit, Dawn!" He dropped his head into his hands. "I've got half my fighting force in the brig, a major combat operation coming up, and an absolute jackass of a commander! I don't need you piling on!"

She stuck her tongue out in reply and plopped herself down on a chair, crossing her arms. It was clear she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"You… you know I'm busy right?"

"Uh huh."

"And that there's nothing wrong with me, right?"

"Uh huh."

"You gonna let me be? Or are you just gonna sit there?"

"Uh huh."

"Why are all of you such headcases?" He sighed and turned back to his work. Rearranging stacks of paper and datapads into something resembling an organized workspace, he began to sift through the thousands of tiny details that allowed his little operation to run smoothly. The words blurred together, numbers becoming meaningless little blobs of ink and pixels that he glazed over before signing off on. He managed to lose himself in the tediousness, managed to block out the outside world and pretend nothing was wrong at all.

That is, except for the small fidgeting noises and occasional cough that came from the chair in the corner of the room. Dawn was still there, playing with her hair, reading a magazine, scrolling through a datapad, tapping out rhythms on the armrest, performing combinations of the four actions or even all of them at once.

 _Ah_. So that was her game. She was trying to wait him out, get him to crack, eh? Well, two could play at that. With a discreet little motion, he changed some settings on the clock. The second hand, previously silent, how made a loud _tick_ with every change in position.

The fidgeting was getting worse. She couldn't hold out much longer. The only question was what she'd do when she brok-

"Fuuuuuuuck!" Well, that was one way to do it. "I can't take this anymore! Admiral, just tell me what's wrong!" In a flash, she was out of her chair, standing in the center of the room with hands planted on her hips. Altogether a rather impressive display, one Garcia refused to respond to. He kept his gaze fixed resolutely downward on his papers, saying nothing.

"Dammit man, talk to me! This isn't something you can just tough out!" She was in front of him now, close enough that her shadow fell across his work and he couldn't pretend to not notice her. Still, he refused to look up.

"For the final time, I'm fine! You can remove yourself, or I will _have_ you removed!"

"But you haven't yet, have you? Removed me? You're waiting for me, aren't you?" She sighed in exasperation. "God, I swear that all you people have been doing these past thirty years is exploring the physical limits of stubborn jackassery! Look, it might come as a surprise to you, but I rather _like_ living! And believe me, I don't say that lightly!" Despite the situation, a faint smile traced across her lips. "You don't know how amazing it is, actually being able to feel with my own hands, speak with my own tongue, breath with my own lungs. I'd like to keep doing that, not just because it's who I am now, but because I need to to do my _fucking job!_ " With a whirl, she fixed him in place with an accusing finger. "And if I recall correctly, the only way I can keep doing that is if do yours! I can read the regs, and Chapter XIII, Title I, Section 12 states that if a commander is in a state of mind that interferes with their duty, the duty of the subordinate is to either restore them to the proper state of mind, or _remove them!_ "

"So what are you saying, then?"

"My job, right now, is to help to do yours! You can either talk to me, or I'll drag you to the sickbay before you come up with some plan that _kills us all!_ I've seen many, many people try to make decisions in your state and believe me, it never ends well!" She pounded a fist onto the desk, glaring down at her commander. "So talk to me, sir, or I'll have Hikowa shoot you up with so many head meds you'll be tripping balls for _weeks!_ "

"Fine!" He shot up as well, slamming down his palms with force enough to shake the sturdy mahogany table. "You want to know what's wrong?! You want me to spill it?!" With his height advantage, he glared down at her, meeting a gaze that suddenly lacked any trace of the determination and bravado it had held a moment before. "Well, do you?!"

Still, despite the intimidating position she found herself in, she didn't back down, something he had to give her credit for. "Yes, sir!"

"Alright! Fine! Since you can't seem to let it go, I'll fucking tell you!" He sucked in a breath, the kind of breath that makes everyone listen closer, the kind that raises anticipation to near unbearable levels. "I… I think I'm in over my head."

Dawn blinked a couple of times. "Well, no shit sir. All of us are."

"No, no, I mean really, seriously, so far in over my head whale shit looks like shooting stars over my head."

"Nice metaphor."

"I'm not cut out for this!" Clutching his hair, he dropped back into his chair and slumped over, energy gone from his body. "Dammit, I'm just a destroyer captain, and a lousy one at that! I'm not admiral material, let alone commander-of-whatever-the-hell-you-call-this material!"

"You seem to have managed well enough." Garcia shook his head, a humorless smile on his face.

"Let's not pretend here, the only reason Admiral Lasky chose me for this command is because I was convenient. Highest ranking guy at hand without a current assignment sound familiar? There's a thousand other people more qualified for this position than I am!" He laughed, a mirthless, self-deprecating sort of chuckle. "Did I ever tell you why I managed to survive that battle? How I got back to Reach?"

"You mean where we met?"

"Yep." He shook his head again. "I was rearguard, the load, the guy nobody expected anything out of! While everyone else duked it out I took potshots from the back! When that retreat order came down I was the first out!"

"Tell me more…"

It came spilling out. "My orders? My orders nearly got Autumn killed! I couldn't do anything while Everest got torn apart on the ground! My battle plans for that station almost wiped out you and Amber! I'm not fit for a major command! Hell, even a destroyer command was a stretch, seeing as how I haven't even kept track of what happened to my people after _Scorpia_ got blown away!"

"Mmhm."

"So how can you say I'm fit for this command, huh? All I've done is muddled through and thanked God there was enough of a safety net to catch me every time I fell!"

"I don't care."

"And that-huh?"

"I said, I don't care." She spread her arms, a smile on her face. "I was a fairly lousy warship. During the war, I mean. So what about it?"

"Well, it wasn't your fault you were underequipped. I'm just a shitty officer!"

"Look, buddy, if you weren't fit for this command, do you think I'd have listened to you back then? When we were duking it out over Earth?" She shook her head, chuckling. "For that matter, you think I'd have bothered with you over Reach? If you were that incompetent, would I still be here, alive and talking to you, especially after that clusterfuck at Sol? No sir, you've got a gift. Everyone else, Admiral Hood, that Belmonte fucker, even Admiral Lasky sees us as some new weapons, more bullets to shoot at the Abyssals. But you? It ain't easy dealing with us, I know. But you see us as people, not just weapons, and that means you know how to work with us in a way no one else can. I sensed something in you back then, and you haven't let me down yet."

"But-"

"I'm not finished. Sure, your command nearly got Autumn killed. But your commands also saved a shit ton of sailors. Sure, your plans nearly got Amber and I shot to shit. But it worked out, and that's all that matters. _The ends justify the means_ sound familiar? Spirit could tell you a thing or two about that. Sometimes, it's better to be lucky than to be good. I think you're lucky." She leaned in close. "But I also think you're good. I see it. Everybody sees it. You just need to see it."

"Dawn…"

"You think Admiral Lasky would have given you this command if you were incompetent? He's smart, not suicidal. He knows that, and I'm gonna toot my horn a little here, that we're the only chance he's got of stopping the Abyssals. You think he'd have wasted us on someone who couldn't hack it?" Tapping her head, she threw him a lopsided sort of grin. "You don't know it, but my mainframes have that battles sensor data all stored up. There were, by my count, fifty five other officers of your rank or higher present at Earth, all without a command via battlefield relief. We could have gone to any one of them, but we went to you."

He didn't speak, but a warm sort of feeling was spreading through his chest. His subordinates believed in him. They trusted him. They thought he could do it.

"Heh." She tapped his forehead and leaned back, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Believe me, I know all about keeping shit bottled up inside you. It won't fix it, but sure feels better once you've let it out, don't it?"

"I guess."

"Still, you should _probably_ go talk to the shrinks. I'm no psychiatrist, but it's pretty obvious there's more to it that's not gonna come out in a one-off like this."

"Right." A sense of purpose crystallized within him. His subordinates trusted him. His superiors were counting on him. He wouldn't let them down. "Right." He nodded once, firmly, getting a pleased looking returning nod from Dawn. "I suppose I should get to work, huh?"

"I'd feel much better if you could come up with a plan, not gonna lie."

"Yes, I guess you would." His mind now focused, if not completely clear, he picked up his datapad. Before he began typing though, something nibbled at the back of his mind. "You were here for something, weren't you? Besides giving my head a few good cracks?"

"Didn't forget about that, did you? I've got a couple of ideas, won't take but a minute."

* * *

"Excuse me, which cell is Lieutenant Commander Everest in?"

"Cell 18. I presume you're visiting?" Not waiting for an answer, the guard passed a datapad through the barred window. "Sign here, Lieutenant." Spirit scribbled her name with the provided stylus and handed it back. The MP took a moment to look over the signature.

"Spirit of Fire, huh?"

"Y-yes."

"I'm not paid enough to deal with shit these days… " He shook his head, muttered something under his breath, then pressed a button under his desk. "Head on in, Lieutenant."

"Th-thank you!"

"Make it snappy, visiting hours are almost over!" The hatch slid shut behind her, cutting him off.

With a sigh, Spirit picked up her tray and started walking. She followed the signs down the hall, the heavy platter making it a little awkward to navigate through the narrow corridors. Soon enough, though, she made it to her destination.

"Who's that?! Oh, just you. Lieutenant!" The MP on guard saluted as she approached, eying the tray in her hands. "Is that… for the prisoner?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yes. Is it… is it okay?"

"Well, I guess if you cleared it with the front…" He sighed and waved the topic away. "You're here to visit the prisoner, yes? Do you require a private room?"

"N-no, no thank you."

"Very well." The MP rapped the door with his baton. "Hey, prisoner! You've got a visitor!"

"What?" From within the cell came the sound of rustling blankets. The MP slid open the window latch, then stepped back to provide a semblance of privacy. "Who the hell- Spirit, that you?"

"H-hey there!"

"Yo! Where've you been?! I was looking for you before they stuck me in here, but you up and disappeared!"

"I-I was helping my crew get settled and introducing myself… sorry it took so long."

"Ah, no worries, good on you for helping out oh my God is that food?" Her eyes zeroed in on the tray, laden with various foodstuffs the mess hall had been willing to part with. "Please tell me that's for me."

"The burger and the salad are." Everest dropped to her knees with a thunk, head bowed in prayer.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Holy fuck, I nearly fucking _starved_ in here! Do you know how little food one-quarter rations is?!"

"I can imagine…" She hesitated before placing the food into Everest's grasping hands. "I should tell you, if I give you this, they'll cut off your rations for three days. Is that okay with you?"

"I can go without fucking ration bars for three days. Give it here!" She grabbed the items, ducking down behind the window to devour them. Spirit stood there awkwardly as the sounds of chewing, biting, and swallowing floated up to her ears, really quite a bit louder than they had to be.

"Holy fuck, thank you! I was about to _starve_ in here!" Wiping crumbs from her mouth, Everest popped back up.

"Um… your wrappers?"

"Huh?" She looked down at her hands, then at the floor around her. "Oh, shit, I think ate the wrapper too. Ah well, I'll deal with it later." Her grin faded a little as she looked at Spirit's face. "Say, you look a little tired. What's up?"

"Huh? I-I'm not tired." Spirit stifled a yawn, blinking a few times to clear her eyes. "Okay, a little. Between helping my crew, running my factories making supplies for the operation and helping Dawn teach the techs about our equipment, it's been a… rough few days." Her face brightened a little. "I've got all the ammunition produced though, so once you get out of there I'll be able to arm you all up!"

"Hold up, hold up. Operation?" Everest frowned. "What're you talking about? It's been like a week, we can't be going out again already!"

"T-they didn't tell you?" Spirit cocked her head to the side. "Well, I guess it would be alright if I passed it on. I don't know the specifics, but there's some sort of emergency at Horizon and the fleet there needs relief, ASAP. There's supposed to be thousands of Abyssals, so they need all hands on deck."

"More shit to kill?" Whatever reaction Spirit had expected, that wasn't it. A series of popping noises came as Everest cracked her knuckles, a twisted sort of grin taking the place of the frown. "Excellen-hold on. _All_ hands?"

"Y-yeah, of course. W-why?"

"Listen." A finger poked Spirit in the chest. "You tell the Admiral that there's no way in _hell_ I am working with that _bitch_ in Cell 25, so he'd _better_ come up with a plan that doesn't put _me_ within an AU of that pathetic, resource-sucking, half-assed _PR stunt_ of a warship!"

"Y-you mean Trafalgar?" Spirit gulped and tugged on her shirt. "O-okay, I'll do that." _Scary!_ Gathering up her things, she turned to leave.

"Hey." Everest shot her a thumbs up as best she could through the narrow window. "Thanks for visiting. I'll be out in a day or two."

"O-okay, you're welcome." Beating a quick march, she double-timed it away from Cell 8, leaving the MP to close the window and resume his guard. "Trafalgar's in Cell 25, then?"

The cold light of the LEDs cast no shadows in the corridor. The corridors were empty as Spirit made her way past rows of empty cells, not a patrol in sight. Of course, the cameras and hidden turrets she could feel watching her every move probably made constant patrolling unnecessary.

"Hm?" Rounding the corner, she heard muffled voices from just up the bend. Her interest piqued, she diverted from her current vector to investigate.

"I'm telling you, I'm _not_ working with them!"

"Come on, they're not all bad, once you get to know them!"

"No! Fuck that! If you want to go and get cuddly with the xenos, fine, but if I so much as _smell_ one…" The voice, presumably Amber, trailed into silence, but Spirit still shivered from the aura of violence permeating the hall.

"Okay, I'll tell the Admiral, but you might not have much of a choice."

Spirit stepped backwards just in time to avoid a collision. The containers on her tray shook a bit, but other than a drop of tea nothing spilled. The noise, however, was enough to cause Dawn to look up.

Forcing a smile on her face, she lifted her hand in tired greeting. "Oh, Spirit. How's it going?"

"Not that great…"

Dawn sighed, her usual energy seeming to drain from her. "Yeah, same on this end. How is it that everyone but us is in some sort of trouble?"

"Autumn's still okay."

"She's in the sickbay. I wouldn't call that okay." She tapped the side of her head. "That reminds me. Admiral Lasky was looking for you earlier, wouldn't say what for. Still, seemed important, said that you should drop by the sickbay ASAP."

"B-but that medic's really scary…"

"Who, Hikowa? Nah, she's great, once you get to know her." Putting her arm around Spirit's shoulder, she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, I think she'd have to get through your crew first, not to mention all the firepower Major Armandez can bring to bear."

"I guess…"

"Oh, by the way, while I'm still talking to you, how's production going? It's gotta be tough, making parts and ammo for six all on your lonesome."

"It's not that bad, but my factories are going round the clock. They're going to need to stand down for maintenance soon, and I'm running a little short on materials." Her mouth moved in silent pantomime as she counted off on her fingers. "Tungsten, iron, depleted uranium, deuterium, Titanium-A, carbon, silicon, lithium, technetium, selenium, hafnium, nitrog-"

"Let me cut you off right there, 'cause I have no idea what half of those things are." Dawn shook her head, smiling ruefully. "This is why I'm a frigate, not a logistics person. Takes brains to be one."

"It's not that hard…"

"For you, maybe." She patted Spirit on the back, turning to continue on her way. "Drop by the sickbay, then help me teach those numbskulls in engineering about reactor maintenance, 'kay? See you there!"

Heaving yet another sigh, Spirit resumed her course as well. Where were Captain Cutter and Serina when she needed them? Hell, at this point she'd even take Spinner or Ballet. Just when she thought she had this all figured out, it seemed the universe just had to bring in yet another element to muddy up her life.

"Oh well. Better not keep Trafalgar waiting." Making sure the tea set and chicken tikka masala were still properly situated, she followed signs toward Cell 25.

* * *

"Another day, another hack attempt…" A drop of sweat on his brow the only sign of his efforts, Beijing leaned back in his chair, sipping at a glass of water. "Section Three's getting creative, I'll give them that." The latest worm had very neatly integrated itself into the structure of the comm protocols, so much so that Beijing honestly wasn't sure if he'd gotten it all out.

"Well, no point in dwelling on it. What's our dear Berlin up to?" He tapped a series of controls, activating his personal privacy screens and opening a secure channel to the embedded operative. "Hello, Lieutenant Eichel."

" _Scheißkerl!_ "

"Bad time?"

" _I'm in the_ bathroom _, asshole!_ "

"Are your privacy screens up?"

" _Wha-yeah, of course! Did you have to call_ now _?!_ "

"Certainly." In the safety of his cabin, he could let his neutral facade crack as Berlin's groan made its way over the line. "Any news on your front?"

" _Well, since you asked so_ nicely _, yes. I've been trying to get Spirit of Fire or her crew on their own, but no luck. Garcia's got an escort with them 24/7._ "

"Does he, now? I suppose that's made life a little difficult for you."

He heard her sigh, this time wistfully. " _Seriously, imagine everything they could tell us about Forerunner tech! Spirit's gotta have something in her mainframes!_ "

"Mainframes? Sounds like you've accepted we're dealing with actual ships here."

" _Yeah, well, ever since Amber blew up at that alien Schwein, I've sort of had to admit it._ "

"Hold on." Beijing leaned forward unconsciously, fatigue forgotten. "What's this about blowing up?"

" _Oh, you don't know? In Amber Clad went absolutely_ nuts _on that Fleetmaster, going on about ripping his guts out and Scheiße like that. Can't blame her, if she's really got baggage from the entire Covie War riding along with her._ "

"Oh dear." The carefully neutral tone of Beijing's voice revealed plenty to Berlin.

" _What? What is it?_ "

A mental cue projected the images of a couple dozen or so robe-clad Sangheili in front of him. Their allegiances, ties, likes, dislikes, friends, family, habits and hobbies, psychological profiles, personal and familial histories, suspected agendas and intentions floated underneath. "There are some factions in the Imperial Council advocating for an end to the alliance with the UNSC. If they get word of this…"

To her credit, Berlin cottoned on quickly. " _Ah. Shit. Okay, what do you want me to do?_ "

"Nothing. I'll handle this. I've got contacts in Section Three I can tap on the sly to suppress information. They're getting rather good at blocking KANMUSU related things."

" _On the sly? Why would you need to do that? Osman would probably be willing, right?_ "

"Recall how Osman has a vindictive streak three AUs wide. Berlin, I know you're new, so you probably don't know this yet, but you know those leaks everyone's so paranoid about? You really don't think Osman could stop them if really wanted to?"

" _What do you-no way. Even_ she _wouldn't._ "

"She would. For now, just keep up the good work on your end." He glanced sideways at the profiles of the two men Berlin had identified as Section Three. Beijing knew that, at any time, either she or one of the station surveillance systems she'd subverted were keeping tabs on them. "You never talked to me. You have not talked to me for two days. You finished your bathroom break and continued on with your day. Am I clear?"

" _Clear on what?_ " Her tone made it clear she understood.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He hit the off button and moved to hang up, but paused. No. He wouldn't hang up just yet. He had one more call to make.

"Paris? I need you and Tokyo to do something for me."


End file.
